Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Review: Premium Brewed Game Day Ice
Game off. |
Labels:
beer review,
premium brewed game day ice
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Is anyone getting me a car this Christmas?
I keep seeing commercials where affluent, well-manicured
people give each other cars with oversized bows on them? Is this really a
thing? How do they even know what features the other likes? Are they dropping
hints into casual conversation? “Boy, this leather couch sure would be great at
60 mph, right?”
If I surprise one of my friends or family members with a
luxury sedan, will I hear a peel of joy or see a cringe of awkward regret?
“Thanks for the car. Did you keep the receipt?”
Labels:
advertising,
Christmas,
Lexus
Monday, December 19, 2011
I am a loser.
This past weekend, I flew across half the country to
participate in a poker tournament hosted by a former* fraternity brother. There
were 22 of us seated at three tables with a bevy of food and beverages to keep
us well contented and lubricated over the course of the afternoon. Some of the
guys played fairly regularly and others, such as yours truly, hadn’t played in
over a year.
And then I was out. THE FIRST ONE OUT. I had a pair of Jacks
and I bet aggressively, pre-flop, but two guys matched me. Then, a Queen
appeared on the flop, and I felt I had to bet even more aggressively to chase
the two out. One obliged and one didn’t—the one with the pair of Queens, it
turns out.
At first I was disappointed, however, the more I thought
about it, the better I was with it. Being out first meant that I could mingle
amongst the remaining tables and catch up with guys I hadn’t seen in years.
And the best part was that no time had passed. Sure, we were
all a little older, some fatter and a great number had wives and kids and
responsibilities, but we all cracked jokes, told stories and laughed to the
point of tears. Some guys had suffered health problems, experienced losses or
were having a hard time, but we listened, consoled and, after a certain point,
busted their balls. Because that’s what we do.
Will I remember who won this year? Yes, because we get it
engraved on a trophy. Will anyone remember that I was the first one out this
year? Yes, because those guys are merciless.
Was it worth it? You bet your @$$ it was.
*Technically we’re still fraternity brothers—brothers for
life and all that—but I mean that we’re not longer in college.
Labels:
poker
Friday, December 16, 2011
In ___________ We Trust.
2011 seemed to be the year when we lost our trust*.
The government lost the trust of the American people.
America lost the World’s trust.
The dollar is no longer the most trusted currency worldwide.
The 1% lost the trust of the 99%.
We lost trust in banks and stocks and bonds and anything
other than gold.
No one trusts China. Or the media.
Fewer and fewer people trust God, any god.
We can’t even seem to trust the food we eat or the air we
breathe.
And, as Penn State proved, sometimes we can’t even trust
each other.
So what can we trust? Who can we turn to in 2012? Can we
trust ourselves?
Trust your gut.
Trust in life.
Trust in the inevitable march of time.
Trust in 4 billion years of evolution**.
Trust that Hollywood movies will always be over budget and
underwhelming.
Trust that a man being hit in the nuts will always be funny.
Always.
Trust that a monkey will always pee in its mouth when it’s
on camera.
Trust that everything will work out okay.
Trust me, I’m a professional.
*And trust funds, if you were so lucky to have one.
**Or 4,000, if that’s your thing.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Creativity is a lot like Pooping*
If you work in a creative field, like advertising or graphic
design, you’ll eventually hear someone say something like, “great, I guess I’ll
just go poop out another idea**.” But, honestly, they’re not far off.
Top 5 ways Creativity is like Pooping™
1.
You can’t
force it***. Trying to squeeze out a creative idea before its time is like
trying poop when you’re not ready—you’ll end up getting hemorrhoids … of the
brain.
2.
When
you’re stuck, read something. This goes back to number 1****, but sometimes
you have to distract yourself in order for ideas to come to you.
3.
Garbage
in, garbage out. Feed your brain substantive ideas and inspiration***** to
get nutrient-rich thinking; granted, it’s all crap, but some is better than
others.
4.
Sometimes
you just have to be the biggest @$$hole. To convince others of your ideas,
sometimes you have to challenge and even risk offending them.
5.
You never
know what you’re going to get. Sure, when you sit down to poop, you have a
general idea of what you’re going to get—brownish, smelly, clingy—but until you
look in that bowl, you don’t know if it will be smooth and silky or clumpy and
runny. Which, let’s face it, is why you got into the business in the first
place, right?
*My parents are so proud right now; “Four years of college
for this?”
**Which precedes the notion of “polishing a turd.”
***Yes, yes, very funny.
****Zing!
*****Like That Tad Guy’s blog, maybe?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
All I want for Christmas is … more variety.
I was recently given a mixed holiday CD. “Nice gesture,” you
might say. Or, “How thoughtful.” And you would be initially right and then
horribly, painfully wrong. It was a CD assembled by a committee of people with
disparate tastes and sensibilities. I know that Christmas is a time of
togetherness, but sometimes Run DMC just needs to sit at the other end of the
table from Jessica Simpson and Justin “Shortie” Bieber.
The CD was a disaster. But it got me to thinking, as I’m oft
apt to do, and it made me realize that while it FEELS like there is an
overabundance of Christmas/Holiday music, there actually ISN’T a lot of NEW
music*. With some exceptions, most original artists churning out holiday albums
these days are merely acting as glorified cover bands. Few are actually writing
or performing wholly original music. And, unfortunately, when an original song
does come along and get popular, like Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas
is Tad**”, someone*** comes along and covers it until it’s unbearable to hear
ever again.
So if I have one wish this holiday season, it’s this: $1
billion in cash. But if I have two wishes, then it’s that everyone in the whole
world write more holiday music.
*OKAY??
**The original title
***Specifically: the Cast of Glee
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Brunch Pants (tm)
Artist's rendering of Brunch Pants (tm) |
I give you (with the help of my brunch crew; respect): Brunch Pants (tm). This project is in the experimental stages, but--if successful--will absolutely change brunch as you know it**.
F.A.Q.s
Is that elastic in the waistband and at the ankles? Yes. Our highly made-up brunchologists have determined that both swell throughout the course of each of the courses, of course.
Are those printed patterns of breakfast foods? No. They are of brunch foods.
There's no way that someone was genius enough to put plastic linings IN THE PANTS to take home and/or smuggle buffet food, right? Wrong. We are that genius.
Aren't those just a take-off on weight-lifting pants from the late 80s/early 90s? Maybe. But we can 100% guarantee that no one who wears these pants will ever workout.
What will be the estimated cost of these amazing pants? Right now, our estimates are between $25-$753 retail.
*No, no you didn't.
**That's a heads up, Nobel Prize committee.
Labels:
Brunch Pants,
brunchologists,
humor
Friday, December 9, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
All I don't want for Christmas.
When I lived in Seattle, a group of friends and I
participated in an annual white elephant gift exchange.
For the uninitiated, the term “white elephant” was originally
and literally a white elephant. White elephants were seen as rare, enviable and
precious gifts, but they were also a financial burden to feed, house, and clean.
Only the wealthiest kings and sultans could afford to keep them, so if a person
were given one as a gift, it was essentially meant to drive the owner to financial
ruin. In modern usage, it means a gift that isn’t really a gift. Or at our
party, it was a gag gift.
Basically, everyone wrapped their gifts and people drew
numbers out of a hat. One had the first pick. Two could then steal one’s gift
or pick from below the tree. If a gift was stolen three times, it was no longer
available to steal.
Some of the most memorable were: The Clapper*, Bootleg DVDs
from Taiwan and a beer in a sock. Good times.
But as we got older, we wanted to be classy. So we decided
to change the game to be a CD and DVD exchange**, but still keep the same
structure. One person, however, didn’t get the memo. And it so happened that I
picked old number 1 for the first time ever.
So there I was in my Christmas sweater, all eager and full
of Holiday Cheer***, surrounded by friends when I unwrapped the first gift. It
was neither CD nor DVD. It was a Strokin’
Santa wind-up doll. Without going into too much detail, Santa had one arm
raised over his head**** and the other on his “north pole”. And when you wound
up the doll, Santa “jingled his bells”. Again, I’m thankful that this was not a
DVD. Needless to say, no one wanted to steal this gift.
But, fortunately, my roommate’s girlfriend was going to
another white elephant gift exchange and traded me a Snoopy Snowcone Machine
for Jolly Old St. Nick. Classy indeed.
*My roommates and I first used it with the TV, but it would shut
off if there were any loud noises ON the TV
**Throw this one in the time capsule, right?
***How is this not a brand of cheap moonshine?
****A detail that has always befuddled me. Was he looking
for a high five? Was he waving to someone?
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The One-Handed Rule
This past weekend, some friends of mine were talking about
the high turnover of restaurants downtown. Some places seemed to only last a
few scant months while others disappeared shockingly after a few days, like a
kidnapping victim in a new country. And then we cracked the code. Correction: I cracked the code. To be a successful
lunch establishment, you only have to pass one test and that test has only one
rule: can you eat it one handed? Soups, salads, bottomless pasta bowls are all
well and good, but they fail the test. And the beauty of the one-handed rule?
It frees up your other hand to receive congratulatory high-fives. Yes!
Labels:
food,
food for thought,
the one handed rule
Monday, December 5, 2011
Origin Schmorigin
I’m a sucker for superhero movies. Not all of them**, but if
they’re even remotely entertaining, I’ll give them a chance. Let me clarify:
mainstream superhero movies, like Spider-man
2 or The Dark Knight*—I’m not a
fan of the hyper-realistic, hyper-violent sub-genre, like Super or Kick-ass. I
don’t need trumped up morality tales or movies trying to subvert the genre. I
just want a halfway decent popcorn movie, like this year’s Thor or Captain America.
The reason I write all of this is because I just watched The Green Hornet. It was terrible; this
is not new information. Every review I read said as much, but I figured that
maybe Michel Gondry and Seth Rogen had created something starkly new, which
oftentimes means that it is initially rejected by the masses.
Masses 1
Gondry & Rogen 0
The main problem was that the creators never defined what
type of movie they wanted it to be. One minute it wanted to be a super cool
action movie with video game effects and the next it was a slapstick farce with
action scenes that would make the 3
Stooges blush.
And the shame of it is that the movie could have been a
compelling statement on violence and vigilantism***.
There’s a scene early on when the Green Hornet and Kato
instinctively run from the police, but end up running the police car into
another car, resulting in a fiery crash. At that moment, they cheer. But what
if they had stopped and thought, “Oh crap. We just hurt a police officer who
was just trying to do his job?” Seth Rogen’s character is supposedly a
billionaire and yet we hear nothing about his efforts to rectify the
consequences of his actions.
Which got me to thinking: I’m done with origin stories. Origin
stories are passive. Things happen to the hero instead of the hero making
things happen. I don’t care so much about the “why” as much as the “what”.
Which in turn caused me to remember a stunningly original
comic book mini-series I collected in my youth: Marvels. The first thing that struck me was Alex Ross’s
photorealistic artwork. But after that, it was the story. Instead of following
the story from the hero’s perspective, we follow a newspaper photographer, who
bears witness to these goliaths as they crash into and intrude on the lives of
everyday citizens. Each of their conflicts results in both positive and
negative consequences and most of the victims know little to none about “why”
Spider-man decided to choose a red and blue color scheme over black****. It was
a bold take on a host of classic good vs. evil stories.
I just wish there was a filmmaker in Hollywood brave enough
to tell a conventional superhero story in an unconventional manner. Because if there was,
they’d be my hero.
*Yes, both are sequels.
**I’m looking at you, Daredevil,
Ghost Rider and Fantastic Four.
***Yes, I get that I just said I didn’t want that from a
Superhero movie.
****That was a nerd test. You failed if you got the
reference.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Yogurt, yo.
Just like you can bake bread without a bread machine*, you
can make yogurt without a yogurt maker, but if you want a dedicated machine,
then the Euro Cuisine Automatic Yogurt Maker does the trick nicely.
When I made my first batch, I followed the instructions to bring the milk to a boil, let cool,
add yogurt, pour in jars, set timer, plug in and wait. I'll be honest: it was a
hassle. So after reading up on the process and making a few more batches,
here's what I now do:
-buy skim milk, measure out 48 oz.
-add a cup of non-fat powdered milk
-add a jar of yogurt from a previous batch
-set timer for 12 hours and turn on (overnight)
-put lids on jars, cool in fridge and go to work
The higher the fat content, the fewer the hours needed to cook. But all of the yogurt comes out nice and thick (not Greek yogurt thick, but regular thick). I add frozen fruit right before eating, although there are instructions for adding them in at a different stage of the process.
I'd rate the machine higher, but the on/off switch doubles as the light and I forgot to turn on the machine once because of it**.
-buy skim milk, measure out 48 oz.
-add a cup of non-fat powdered milk
-add a jar of yogurt from a previous batch
-set timer for 12 hours and turn on (overnight)
-put lids on jars, cool in fridge and go to work
The higher the fat content, the fewer the hours needed to cook. But all of the yogurt comes out nice and thick (not Greek yogurt thick, but regular thick). I add frozen fruit right before eating, although there are instructions for adding them in at a different stage of the process.
I'd rate the machine higher, but the on/off switch doubles as the light and I forgot to turn on the machine once because of it**.
*yes, you can actually bake your own bread
**surprisingly, the yogurt still turned out okay
Thursday, December 1, 2011
That Tad Guy's Gift-giving Guide™
It seems like everyone does a gift-giving guide this time of year. The best gifts for octogenarians. What to
get your co-workers. How to say, “thanks for checking me into rehab” for under
$10. All of those guides are misguided*. This is the only guide—the
definitive guide—you’ll need this holiday season. Why? Because I’m not going to
give you a list of crap to purchase. I’m going to show you how to select a
gift. And isn’t that the best gift of all?**
DO:
·
Get them
something they want. Sounds pretty simple, right? Yet studies*** show
that 89% of gift recipients don’t get what they want, 43% of the time.
·
Get them
something expensive looking, but which was actually on sale. Oops, secret’s
out, folks****.
·
Give them
something meaningful … to them. The better you know a person, the less you
should have to spend on them. Uh, I mean that you won’t have to overcompensate
trying to impress them. Jeez.
DON’T:
·
Give them
something that doubles as a passive aggressive attempt to change something
about themselves. Examples include: Gym memberships, non-alcoholic beer, one-way
tickets out of the country, gift cards to psychologists, etc.
·
Give them
an illness. Blankets for winter are great; small pox blankets for winter …
hard to return.
*See what I did there? It’s called “wordplay”
**Hahahaha. No.
***I’m sure there’s some study somewhere that backs this up
****Hope everyone likes their “Rolexes"
Labels:
do,
don't,
gift-giving guide
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Does corporate culture matter?
I know that you typically turn to this site for my witty
witticisms, crude/hilarious cartoons and leaked pictures of my abs*. I thank
you for that.
But today I want to talk about culture. Corporate culture.
Actually, talk is a misnomer. Rant is what I want to do. I want to rant.
There’s a lot of lip service given to corporate culture.
Heck, there’s a lot of time and money and energy given to it as well. In all
likelihood, you’ve probably heard something along these lines:
“We’re creating a
culture of success.”
“We want to foster a camaraderie
culture.”
“Here at Corporation
X**, our goal is to implement a culture of caring.”
If a corporation truly embraces and commits to these
virtues—even at the sacrifice of potential profit—then I have nothing to rant
about.
But that’s the rare exception, isn’t it?
How many companies are brave enough or honest enough to face
the hard truth that the culture they think they have isn’t the one they
actually have?
I’ve worked at and worked with a wide range of corporate
clients and I’m continually disappointed to see how many have a culture of fear***,
whether they intend to or not. Buildings packed with people too afraid to make
a decision one way or another. Boardrooms filled with people unable to share
their honest opinion. Cubicles staffed by people who are forced to suffer
inhumane indignities under the guise of efficiency.
These corporations would probably even describe their
corporate culture in positive terms: “extremely collaborative”, “very
creative”, “pretty fun”.
But can a place be “extremely collaborative” if its
employees are siloed off in different departments?
Is it fair to say a place is “very creative” if you can’t
even paint the walls the colors you’d like?
Are places that block employee access to websites, like ESPN
or YouTube, “pretty fun”?
To me, culture is the
cumulative alignment of words and action.
Every time a corporation implements a policy that is counter
to its predominant culture, it isn’t being honest with what it is. Now, that
can be a good thing if your culture is one of fear and you’re actively working
to change that. But it’s a bad thing if you think you’re at an innovative
company, and yet nothing ever seems to change.
Thankfully, I’m lucky enough to work in an industry that
values casual attire, occasional swearing and male-patterned baldness. Which,
knowing my jinx track record, will mean that I’ll have to start wearing toupees
to every corporate client meeting.
*What? Those haven’t leaked yet?
**If there’s actually a “Corporation X” out there, my
apologies in advance.
***I do find it interesting that “culture” is a wholly
white-collar luxury. Maybe I’m over simplifying things, but when I worked as a
dishwasher at a family restaurant, I didn’t care what the “culture” was. I knew
that I was making four bucks and hour and if I didn’t get the dishes out fast
enough then customers wouldn’t have a plate on which to eat. If “sloppy and
humid” is a culture, then that was it.
Labels:
does corporate culture matter,
rant
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
I fixed an iPod (sort of)
One of my coworkers left an iPod on the free table—discarded
and disregarded like so much ephemera—and it inevitably made its way into my
possession. As I've mentioned before, I like to fix things*.
Earlier this year, my lawn mower would start and then quit
immediately. So I did a quick search online and was able to find plenty of
helpful advice, including step-by-step videos. Granted, some of the advice and
videos were better than others, but I was able to disassemble the carburetor on
my lawn mower, clean it, reassemble it and get it started again. Thanks
Internet!
I mention this willingness to dive into things because it
reminded me of something I read about Steve Jobs. Now, I’m no Steve Jobs, but
in the outstanding book, The Pixar Touch,
there’s a story about how Steve started learning about electronics at an early
age. He would get disassembled radios and learn how to build them from the
ground up. In the book, he says that the experience took away the mystery of
electronics as this mystical, magical, unknowable thing.
So when I came across this non-working iPod, I saw it as a
challenge to overcome. I tried a hard reboot and that failed. I did a reinstall
of the operating system and that seemed to work. Huzzah! But then battery
wouldn’t hold a charge. Ah-ha! One problem: How to get to the battery? Answer:
the Internet. I found a helpful site that showed me how to open the case
(basically jam a knife inside and pry) and disconnect the battery. From there
it was just a matter of matching part number to part number, getting a new
battery for about $15 online and reassembling the whole contraption. Unfortunately,
part of the screen was damaged in my zeal, but overall, I have a working iPod
again for $15. And I gained the confidence in knowing that if the screen stops
working entirely, I’ll be able to fix that, too.
*As opposed to “people” or “relationships”
Labels:
iPod fix,
sort of,
The Pixar Touch
Monday, November 28, 2011
I made sushi*
*Not for Thanksgiving.
Someone call a mohel, these guys need to get cut. |
Missouri Rolls. Take that, California. |
Labels:
i made sushi,
Missouri rolls,
Mohel
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Nope.
I'm on holiday today and tomorrow. For my international readers, my apologies. For my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving.
Labels:
happy thanksgiving,
holiday,
nope
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Things I’m Thankful For
·
Kung-fu movies
·
Hot chocolate with marshmallows
·
America™ Freedom
·
Hot oil thumb wrestling contests
·
Forgiveness
·
People related to me
·
People not related to me, but who act like they
are
·
Stock dividends
·
Practical jokes on people who look like me, but
who aren’t me
·
Calling out hypocrites publicly
·
Milk, when shot out of a nose (not mine)
·
Hugs that lasts a few seconds too long
·
Hybrid Monster Trucks
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Top 5 Pilgrim pick-up lines
5. Thou surest know how to buckle a hat.
4. Is thy name “giving”? Because mine name is “thanks”.
3. Would thou likest to book passage on mine ship? ‘Tis the May
de-Flower.
2. I haveth rocks, but they be not from Plymouth.
1. Care to feast thine eyes upon my horn o’ plenty?
Labels:
historically accurate,
humor,
pilgrim pick-up lines,
top 5
Friday, November 18, 2011
Yep, I'm a logo.
*almost never
Labels:
chili,
I'm a logo,
jolly,
that tad guy
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Top 5 things I look for in an independent coffee shop.
If you’re thinking about opening a coffee shop, or even
frequenting one with any, um, frequency, I encourage you to learn from my
experiences.
1.
Make it
big. I go to coffee shops to be around other people. Small,
hole-in-the-wall shops just mean that it will be the barista and me. Awkward.
2.
Use your
front window to put the loners. I love the bar-style seating that runs
along many front windows. I can sit comfortably and not feel guilty about
taking up a whole table.
3.
Offer
free Wi-fi. If people are abusing the bandwidth, kick them off. Otherwise,
charging for Internet access is antiquated and cheap.
4.
Figure
out your refill policy. If you’re going to offer a “bottomless mug”, make
it convenient to get a refill. If you’re going to charge per refill, state it
clearly on your menu and don’t charge an initial price that’s out of line with
other shops.
5.
Keep it
clean. When a place is crowded or messy, there’s a short window of time
before I decide to just move onto the next place. Having a person on staff to
quickly clean vacated tables is like rolling out a welcome mat just for me.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Book Review: The Little Engine That Could by various authors
The Premise:
A little coal-powered engine believes in itself so much that
it makes it up to the top of a steep hill.
The Good:
This heartwarming and inspirational tale is most likely
based on a true story. It glosses over the unseemly aspects of railroad
building to let the reader focus on the tale of triumph and the power of
positive thinking. The Little Engine’s mantra “I think I can” is catchy and
should be memorable for most readers.
The Bad:
The physics in the book are dubious, at best. The reader is
asked to suspend belief as a smaller engine with less torque is able to
out-perform larger, more powerful engines based on “willpower”. How many pounds
per square inch does “willpower” produce? And, really, who decided to lay down
tracks at that steep of a grade, anyway? It seems as though the author(s) did
little-to-no research and instead decided to bend the science to fit their
needs.
The Verdict:
Read it before bedtime. While preachy and highly inaccurate,
the book’s repetition of “I think I can” is rhythmic and repetitive enough to
lull the reader to sleep.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Boiled Peanuts
When I was a youngster, I invented the peanut butter & butter
sandwich*. In high school I lived off of peanut butter & jelly
sandwiches. I can de-shell a bag of peanuts at a baseball game faster
than piranhas can skin a whole cow. Reese's peanut butter cups and
Reese's pieces are a favorite, plus I like roasted peanuts and love Thai
peanut sauce.
But "boiled peanuts" was a first. Apparently it's a Southern thing because they have vendors selling them at football games and everything.
And I have to say ... not my preferred method of peanut-y goodness. Peanuts without the crunch are like Peanuts without Snoopy--sure they're fun, but they lacking that extra something. And they're soggy. Really soggy.
So the next time someone offers you a cup full of boiled peanuts**, tell 'em, "thank you for your well-meaning, but misplaced, Southern hospitality".
*Not even Elvis was that gluttonous
**All the time, right?
But "boiled peanuts" was a first. Apparently it's a Southern thing because they have vendors selling them at football games and everything.
And I have to say ... not my preferred method of peanut-y goodness. Peanuts without the crunch are like Peanuts without Snoopy--sure they're fun, but they lacking that extra something. And they're soggy. Really soggy.
So the next time someone offers you a cup full of boiled peanuts**, tell 'em, "thank you for your well-meaning, but misplaced, Southern hospitality".
*Not even Elvis was that gluttonous
**All the time, right?
Labels:
boiled peanuts
Friday, November 11, 2011
What it’s like to do stand-up comedy.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Oh no.
Oh no, who?
Oh no, I crapped my
pants on stage in front of everyone I know.
You really don’t need to read any further. But you’re a
literary lot, so I’ll give you a brief glimpse behind the laughter.
The first time I performed stand-up comedy was in the fifth
grade*. It’s true: this isn’t some revisionist history. My elementary school
held a talent show and I performed a routine that was essentially a parody commercial.
I don’t remember the details—I never wrote it down—but it involved kitchen
tongs and one of the product benefits was stealing candy from a baby. It was a
crystalline moment. For the first time I had had the spark of an idea, grabbed
onto it, worked it around in my head and brought it fully formed to life on
stage. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) the routine killed**.
What didn’t kill was my first foray on stage during college.
I wrote a routine. Practiced it in private. Performed it in public. And died an
agonizing, lingering, sweaty death. It was like getting dumped by a girl, but
you’re naked and everyone you know is there laughing at you while they punch
you in the stomach until you cry. And then they laugh at you for crying. This
was before YouTube, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
Luckily, a year or so later, a good friend pushed me to take
a comedy class with him. It was a weeklong session with 15 or so participants.
Everyone developed a routine and tried out their material in front of the
class. People gave positive feedback and we had about two chances to tweak our
material before the final test—a 5-minute routine performed at a local comedy
club in front of a friendly audience made up of family and friends. It was both
awesome and horrible.
Here’s how it broke down:
3 people were hilarious (myself, my friend and one other
guy)
7 people gave a good effort and had a decent joke or two
5 people were painfully, embarrassingly unfunny
But all of the people tried and it was a great learning
experience. As such:
·
You are going to be nervous. Probably the most
nervous you’ve ever been or will be outside of a wedding or a second wedding to
a person none of your family or friends approve of***. The only way to combat
that nervousness is to KNOW YOUR MATERIAL.
·
You will want to PRACTICE and then practice
again. And again.
·
If you think you’ve heard a joke before, you
have. DO NOT STEAL JOKES.
·
Try to be funny without swearing or being
“outrageous”. Yes, some of the funniest comedians work “blue”, but the best can
be funny without relying on sexual, religious or offensive material.
·
Prepare for the unexpected. There could be
technical difficulties. The place could burn down. But if you keep your wits
about you, you could joke about how you started the fire … by lighting your own
farts.
Thank you. Tip your waitress. Try the veal. I’ll be here all
week.
*It might have been sixth grade, in case anyone is writing a
biography of my life
**I wasn’t new to the spotlight. I was essentially the lead
or a major speaking part in every one of my elementary school’s productions. I
doubt a VHS tape exists, but trust me, my rendition of “Tilly” in “Tilly the
Tooth”, a play about dental hygiene, in second grade had gravitas. The pathos I
displayed for brushing and flossing put many an area dentist out of business.
Or so I assume.
***You know of whom I speak
Labels:
stand-up comedy,
Tilly the Tooth,
what it's like
Thursday, November 10, 2011
What it’s like to be bald.
Being bald is no longer the embarrassing affliction it once
was*. Thanks to the tireless efforts of virile bald men, baldness is now on par
with having a tattoo—you’re outside the mainstream, but pretty much everybody
is doing it.
If you think you’re going bald and wonder if you should
shave your head, do it. You won’t regret it. It’s like pulling off a Band-Aid: the faster you do it, the
more hair you rip out.
Now, full disclosure: I don’t straight razor; I use clippers
with no guard. There are advantages to both. Using a razor will give you a
closer shave, but it’s more time consuming and you run the risk of getting
in-grown hairs (or so I’ve heard). Using clippers is easier, but the results
aren’t for everyone. Whichever method you choose, you’ll have to shave at least
twice a week, if not more.
And as the fine folks over at ShootPaul.com have
established, “Tad is bald and susceptible to dents on his head”. This is the
first thing you discover: every little scratch, bump, bruise, dent or zit is
magnified tenfold. Bang your cranium plugging in a cord under your desk and
it’s a week of “Greetings Gorbachev! How’s Russia?”**.
And that brings us to the second thing you learn: you’re
going to need a lot of hats. In the summer, it’s baseball caps for sports,
straw fedoras for lounging in the sun and even lightweight running hats for,
well, running. In the fall and winter months, it’s a cavalcade of knit caps, toques,
stocking caps and the like. The only time you don’t need a hat or cap is when
you're swimming or showering.
Which is the best part of being bald: efficiency. Shampoo?
Nope. Hair-dryer? Not in my house. Sleeping in until the last minute? Yes,
please.
So the next time you find yourself calling someone “Cue
ball”, remember that they are a real person with real feelings***. They just
don’t have follicles on the top of their head.
*It’s called evolution. Get used to it.
**Proper response: Dos vedanya, Comrade!
***Wait, what? There’s a lesson here? My apologies, I did
NOT see that coming.
Labels:
bald,
Gorbachev,
shootpaul.com,
what it's like
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