OOH, NOT QUITE ASS, NOT QUITE BALLS.
Stuff THAT.
Nah, but on the real though--I'd like to take a moment to give thanks for the random little things I don't usually cover on tomorrow's holiday. LET'S GET OBSCURE!
I'M TAINTFUL FOR-
TIES
Hell yes. I effing love ties. Every time I where I tie, someone at work compliments me on being "Such a gentleman." HAH! FOOLED EM.
SEWING ABILITY
Thanks to this, you'll never see my satchel through the spy window of my trousers.
BADASS BUNNIES
See 'Watership Down'.
OGTMNT
The original motherfucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles series and its ensuing spinoff products. Thems were the glory days. My brother and I had just about every single action figure there was. Ooze slinging Turtlemobile? Check-a-roo. Mechaturtle with the glowing eyes? DOUBLE-check-a-roo. Worst day of my life? Leaving an original 'Bebop' on the bus when I was 6. Weep.
YOGA
Release stored bodily tension and teabag yourself. I'm just sayin'. Two birds n' all that.
THE SHUFFLE OPTION
You dim the lights down and slink your way to the bedroom as sexily as possible. Before you and your main squeeze get down--you decide to turn on some music to help the mood.
"Ain't no thang, baby gurl-" you say, "I'll put this iPod on shuffle."
Great idea if you're me.
"I--er--I can explain!" you stammer, tripping over your pants. BUT THERE'S NO EXPLAINING. No explanation is good enough to rectify "Nookie" or "Boom Boom Boom Boom, I Want You In My Room". Thank you shuffle, you keep my life a romantic comedy.
COMMUNAL FOOD
French fries. Nachos. Hot Wings. I love eating with my hands with people I adore. If you've ever been to a Moroccan (or really any region with communal hand-eatin' goodness) restaurant and shared an entree with several friends and their digits, you feel so much closer than you do with knives and forks and separate plates. YUMS.
Just don't invite butt-pickin' Kyle.
OBSCURE JOKES
If any of the above links made you giggle, you're on my team. And THIS kickball season? We're taking home the DOUBLE-GOLD.
Yup yup yup, those are some of the random things that I don't usually give enough love to. All that aside, I'm extremely thankful for my friends and family, who I love DEARLY. Even if I don't call or write you all the time (and that's my badsky, a fault I'll work on) know that if you were here, I'd give you an elaborate high-five and take you drinking/dancing/for a Cinnabon. You're--sniffle--you're so cool.
Vibes,
Dakotah
P.S. Mofos, what is YOU be fankful fo? Leave a comment! I wantsta' know!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Noms and Nudes
I smirked at the irony of picking up "The Berenstein Bears Forget Their Manners" off the floor in the kids' section at B&N and made my way to the revolving book cage (where Ultimate Fighters read each other into submission.) As I was shelving, I caught a teensy glance out of the corner of my eye and realized a little tike was staring up at me. It's my natural response to smile and wave, so I looked full at the kid and realized the little girl was occupied.
She had a titty in her mouf.
NOW--I'm not in the least bit Puritanical about breastfeeding. In fact, anyone who knows me knows that my goal throughout Middle School was "See A Boob". It remains a motivating factor in my life, but is now superseded by "Get a car", "Act on Stage" and "See a Butt." Nevertheless, I was thrown for a moment--as I haven't figured out the proper protocol for this situation. I mean like...should I say something? If my nuts were hanging out, I'd like someone to mention it. I mean I suppose its different, since kids don't have to suck on balls for sustenance. (Best sentence I've ever written in my life.) I mean...I just wish I'd known in Middle School that evidently all I had to do was hang out in the kids' area of a bookstore.
Brings me to another point--!
Seeing as though I don't live at a housing co-op, I don't expect to run into naked people that frequently. That is to say--if I'm interacting with a naked person, it's probably for a very particular activity. (Hint: Not Yahtzee) So when I took a life drawing class a few years ago, I was sort of stopped in my tracks by the matter-of-fact nature of the entire thing. I've never stared at a nude woman that long while being utterly objective. Um...not that I objectified her...cuz...
Let's start over. Hi, I'm Dakotah.
Nah but fo reelz--one minute you're talking to a fit dancery yoga-ing hippie chick in a robe and the next minute you're trying to be very disconnected while shading her vagina. It's an extremely particular situation that I think everyone should try at least once for the hilarity alone. I mean hell, I wouldn't mind modeling if it weren't for...er...the nature of my nature.
"Can you stop moving that, please? I've had to do a lot of erasing."
"Look man, it does what it wants."
"It's casting a shadow though."
"Well maybe you two should have a talk."
Love love love,
Dakotah
She had a titty in her mouf.
NOW--I'm not in the least bit Puritanical about breastfeeding. In fact, anyone who knows me knows that my goal throughout Middle School was "See A Boob". It remains a motivating factor in my life, but is now superseded by "Get a car", "Act on Stage" and "See a Butt." Nevertheless, I was thrown for a moment--as I haven't figured out the proper protocol for this situation. I mean like...should I say something? If my nuts were hanging out, I'd like someone to mention it. I mean I suppose its different, since kids don't have to suck on balls for sustenance. (Best sentence I've ever written in my life.) I mean...I just wish I'd known in Middle School that evidently all I had to do was hang out in the kids' area of a bookstore.
Brings me to another point--!
Seeing as though I don't live at a housing co-op, I don't expect to run into naked people that frequently. That is to say--if I'm interacting with a naked person, it's probably for a very particular activity. (Hint: Not Yahtzee) So when I took a life drawing class a few years ago, I was sort of stopped in my tracks by the matter-of-fact nature of the entire thing. I've never stared at a nude woman that long while being utterly objective. Um...not that I objectified her...cuz...
Let's start over. Hi, I'm Dakotah.
Nah but fo reelz--one minute you're talking to a fit dancery yoga-ing hippie chick in a robe and the next minute you're trying to be very disconnected while shading her vagina. It's an extremely particular situation that I think everyone should try at least once for the hilarity alone. I mean hell, I wouldn't mind modeling if it weren't for...er...the nature of my nature.
"Can you stop moving that, please? I've had to do a lot of erasing."
"Look man, it does what it wants."
"It's casting a shadow though."
"Well maybe you two should have a talk."
Love love love,
Dakotah
Thursday, November 19, 2009
REBOOT
"You are fearful now of losing your mind, as I once feared myself. Let me say, however, that to relinquish your self carries no shame,"
A quote from a misguided old Colonel in Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami. I sigh and put down the book, laying back in bed (yes, I'm still in bed.) I planned on doing laundry, but I have to put a hold on it for a moment. I played half an hour of Borderlands and then got distracted and turned it off. Now I'm turning to the BLAG-O-SPHERE-O-TUBES to try and sort out my dome. More appropriately, I'm turning to my quaint little corner of interwebs to sort out muh face-noggin.
Yesterday, I had lunch with my friend, Charlie to try and figure out how to remain sane as an artist. This is a pretty pressing concern for me, as returning from the most tumultuous and incredible three years of my life--to--this, being home, hit me in the weirdest of ways. I actually recall saying "Yeah no, it's weird--but I really think Nebraska is going to help." It has recently come to my attention that...er...no, no it certainly hasn't. I sort of expected the tour to be the energizing supplement to my concerns--but no dice.
The isolation is the worst part.
Namely--no longer feeling like I'm part of my old community. Now, that's natural of course. It's just a pain in the ass. A major pain in the ass. I'm sitting here in my brother's old room with the door closed and nothing on the walls--wanting desperately to be connected again. It's hard, of course, to keep in mind that one's significance never changes (something Charlie mentioned yesterday) only one's circumstances.
Fuck, man...I've always been like this. Even in great times, it's like, "Aww man...SOMETHING has to suck."
And that's the icing on this big stupid cake. I know it's just a rusty old defense mechanism, still whirring there in the corner generally unnoticed because its been there for so long. It stays out of trouble and avoids the massive overhaul that it needs. Even now, looking over my old LIVEJOURNAL account--there are the throes of this discontent. Like--shit, man. I'm not even tormented by anything. Just a FEELING. Y'know? An INTUITION. Those people are really interesting in stories because like...they'll start wailing for no reason and then the main bad guy will show up...and you'll be like, "OH SNAP, FO REALS!? CRAZY DUDE WAS ON TOP OF HIS SHIT!" But constantly having a 'bed feeling about this' aids absolutely zero people.
But y'know...I don't really think it's a negative thing.
Energy is energy, and because of that--it can be channeled any way you like. I'm pretty sure the feeling that "Something's not right" is the same thing that makes me act, draw, write, and make music (well...make other peoples' music...poorly.. :D)
So what this calls for, perhaps--is simply a reboot. A rewiring of synapses and mental paths. ELECTRO-SHOCK THERAPY TIME! No no, but for reals--it's all the same STUFF at the center of us, yeah? Right? Okay, we're agreed. It's time to believe in that STUFF again and let it come out.
Love love love,
Dakotah
Also--the third dude in this video is the Andres clone that DIDN'T get into the MFA.
A quote from a misguided old Colonel in Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami. I sigh and put down the book, laying back in bed (yes, I'm still in bed.) I planned on doing laundry, but I have to put a hold on it for a moment. I played half an hour of Borderlands and then got distracted and turned it off. Now I'm turning to the BLAG-O-SPHERE-O-TUBES to try and sort out my dome. More appropriately, I'm turning to my quaint little corner of interwebs to sort out muh face-noggin.
Yesterday, I had lunch with my friend, Charlie to try and figure out how to remain sane as an artist. This is a pretty pressing concern for me, as returning from the most tumultuous and incredible three years of my life--to--this, being home, hit me in the weirdest of ways. I actually recall saying "Yeah no, it's weird--but I really think Nebraska is going to help." It has recently come to my attention that...er...no, no it certainly hasn't. I sort of expected the tour to be the energizing supplement to my concerns--but no dice.
The isolation is the worst part.
Namely--no longer feeling like I'm part of my old community. Now, that's natural of course. It's just a pain in the ass. A major pain in the ass. I'm sitting here in my brother's old room with the door closed and nothing on the walls--wanting desperately to be connected again. It's hard, of course, to keep in mind that one's significance never changes (something Charlie mentioned yesterday) only one's circumstances.
Fuck, man...I've always been like this. Even in great times, it's like, "Aww man...SOMETHING has to suck."
And that's the icing on this big stupid cake. I know it's just a rusty old defense mechanism, still whirring there in the corner generally unnoticed because its been there for so long. It stays out of trouble and avoids the massive overhaul that it needs. Even now, looking over my old LIVEJOURNAL account--there are the throes of this discontent. Like--shit, man. I'm not even tormented by anything. Just a FEELING. Y'know? An INTUITION. Those people are really interesting in stories because like...they'll start wailing for no reason and then the main bad guy will show up...and you'll be like, "OH SNAP, FO REALS!? CRAZY DUDE WAS ON TOP OF HIS SHIT!" But constantly having a 'bed feeling about this' aids absolutely zero people.
But y'know...I don't really think it's a negative thing.
Energy is energy, and because of that--it can be channeled any way you like. I'm pretty sure the feeling that "Something's not right" is the same thing that makes me act, draw, write, and make music (well...make other peoples' music...poorly.. :D)
So what this calls for, perhaps--is simply a reboot. A rewiring of synapses and mental paths. ELECTRO-SHOCK THERAPY TIME! No no, but for reals--it's all the same STUFF at the center of us, yeah? Right? Okay, we're agreed. It's time to believe in that STUFF again and let it come out.
Love love love,
Dakotah
Also--the third dude in this video is the Andres clone that DIDN'T get into the MFA.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Slap My Fro
PAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-
"Who are some of your favorite musicians?"
"Oh, y'know...Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, DUDU FISHER."
"Wh...like he fishes for-?"
"Yes."
"Who are some of your favorite musicians?"
"Oh, y'know...Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, DUDU FISHER."
"Wh...like he fishes for-?"
"Yes."
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Weezer and Bookmongering
First off..
Fuck yeah.
A. In The Butt, Yeah
B. I don't get it...is this an inside joke thing?
C. Fuck NO. I don't like Weezer because I am stupid and have no family values.
D. 'C' reminded me of Addams Family Values. Man, remember that movie?
So working in the kids section last night, I re-realized something--a childrens' book can be named essentially anything. I'm thinking of diving into that business. So far my titles are:
"Here's a Duck"
"Kneecaps!"
"Breakfast on the Dog"
and
"RUN"
I think I'm on to something here.
OH--RIGHT--In the ACTING world, I'm still climbin'. I've submitted for some stuff--namely webisodes and stage auditions. I'll be filming a promotional video for public transportation on the 20th. Figures I guess--heh. I'm going to take the bus to the shoot and they'll marvel at how METHOD I am. Aside from that bweezness--I'm really itching to get HSD off the ground. Oh...oh THAT little ol' thing? One word. Webcomic. See, now that I posted it here--I have incentive to get chugging on it. Fuck, man--I shouldnt'a said nothin'.
In other news, I'm getting a ride to SB on Friday with Lolo-Woodsies to see RABBIT HOLE. I am so effing excited. FIRSTLY--VISITING ESS BEEEE!!! I MISS IT SO. I get to HANG OUT with errbody!!!! I'm gonna' get some FREEBIRDS, gonna swing by the beachy-beach! Boner? ACTIVATED. SECONDLY--GONNA SEE THAT GODDURM PLAAAY!!! DOUBLE BONER? DOUBLE ACTIVATED.
Whew.
Love love love
Dak
P.S. I haven't been swing dancing since the Triassic period--who's got a flippy dress and a free night?
Fuck yeah.
A. In The Butt, Yeah
B. I don't get it...is this an inside joke thing?
C. Fuck NO. I don't like Weezer because I am stupid and have no family values.
D. 'C' reminded me of Addams Family Values. Man, remember that movie?
So working in the kids section last night, I re-realized something--a childrens' book can be named essentially anything. I'm thinking of diving into that business. So far my titles are:
"Here's a Duck"
"Kneecaps!"
"Breakfast on the Dog"
and
"RUN"
I think I'm on to something here.
OH--RIGHT--In the ACTING world, I'm still climbin'. I've submitted for some stuff--namely webisodes and stage auditions. I'll be filming a promotional video for public transportation on the 20th. Figures I guess--heh. I'm going to take the bus to the shoot and they'll marvel at how METHOD I am. Aside from that bweezness--I'm really itching to get HSD off the ground. Oh...oh THAT little ol' thing? One word. Webcomic. See, now that I posted it here--I have incentive to get chugging on it. Fuck, man--I shouldnt'a said nothin'.
In other news, I'm getting a ride to SB on Friday with Lolo-Woodsies to see RABBIT HOLE. I am so effing excited. FIRSTLY--VISITING ESS BEEEE!!! I MISS IT SO. I get to HANG OUT with errbody!!!! I'm gonna' get some FREEBIRDS, gonna swing by the beachy-beach! Boner? ACTIVATED. SECONDLY--GONNA SEE THAT GODDURM PLAAAY!!! DOUBLE BONER? DOUBLE ACTIVATED.
Whew.
Love love love
Dak
P.S. I haven't been swing dancing since the Triassic period--who's got a flippy dress and a free night?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Dig This-
So yeah--my previous post was definitely while I was in the midst of a thought cyclone. Or an "A-Flaiken-Flurken" if you will. So y'know...can we have some sort of subculture that still stands for something or are we doomed to dye our hair weird and knock over garbage cans?
I say we can totally create a tribe. (Not necessarily in the Burning Man sense, although I feel much more at home with hippies than with yuppies.) It's easier than it looks when we put our like-minds together. When we learn to love our ridiculous nature, we can chuck useless things like self-consciousness and greed and start to focus on what's really important. Like butts.
But(t) for realsies--inasmuch as Silly is the New Sexy, Love is the New Counterculture. Now obviously this still means there's room for subverting the norm--the norm needs a little subverting. Shake shit up, but shake it up for a reason.
Love and impulse, yo. This world is rad when we see it for reals.
Buckets of love,
Dak
I say we can totally create a tribe. (Not necessarily in the Burning Man sense, although I feel much more at home with hippies than with yuppies.) It's easier than it looks when we put our like-minds together. When we learn to love our ridiculous nature, we can chuck useless things like self-consciousness and greed and start to focus on what's really important. Like butts.
But(t) for realsies--inasmuch as Silly is the New Sexy, Love is the New Counterculture. Now obviously this still means there's room for subverting the norm--the norm needs a little subverting. Shake shit up, but shake it up for a reason.
Love and impulse, yo. This world is rad when we see it for reals.
Buckets of love,
Dak
Monday, November 9, 2009
Dude, Where's My Subculture?
In a society with an 'optional' war and a PS3 selling depression, the real value of our humanity seems to fade behind a wall of YouTube comments. Cynicism is the new black, and all the young-uns begin to act like grown-ups without ever growing up for realsies. Did Peter Pan know this world was already full of Lost Boys? Second star to the right and straight on 'till Gossip Girl.
We've got most anything we want at our fingertips--what then is there left to fight for?
Our enemies are more mysterious this time around. We're dealing with--dare I say--Skinjobs...? Under a bombardment of "Be yourself!" messages, too often we look up meekly and ask "But HOW?" Then of course parents, friends, tv, books and God (y'know, if you're into that sort of thing) give us plenty of ways to be who we are. The problem still persists though--we're all doing this for the first time and nobody knows us like us. On top of it, even with all the ways to be an individual nobody comes out and says "Be yourself--as long as its alright with us."
Now what does this have to do with Sub(counter?)culture?
Well Buford, I'm glad you asked. This all has to do with subversion. Subversion of things we take for granted. True individuality. In the greater sense, things are running pretty smoothly--that is we're not on the brink of a plague and people aren't dying in the streets. The fear of mortality that really hits home when human beings are being killed by the millions on battlefields, in villages, and in death camps, creates an intensely powerful energy...and though it was forged from fire and bone and tears--it can be distilled into a beautiful appreciation for the world we lay upon and the people we lay upon it with. I do believe there's appreciation drought in the world right now.
Food in seconds? Yes, please! I'll go ahead and toss this wrapper into a koi pond, you won't mind?
and
You mean to tell me that President Obama won't come to MY house, yank down MY pants and wipe my butt for me? OUTRAGEOUS!
What is our 'underground' based on? Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for hedonism--but it seems like the outliers in years past were at least sticking it to someone. Who are we sticking it to now?
Cuz we've gotta' stick it somewhere.
To be continued...
Love love love~!!
Dak
P.S. No, I didn't go through your entire Facebook album looking for pictures of your butt.
We've got most anything we want at our fingertips--what then is there left to fight for?
Our enemies are more mysterious this time around. We're dealing with--dare I say--Skinjobs...? Under a bombardment of "Be yourself!" messages, too often we look up meekly and ask "But HOW?" Then of course parents, friends, tv, books and God (y'know, if you're into that sort of thing) give us plenty of ways to be who we are. The problem still persists though--we're all doing this for the first time and nobody knows us like us. On top of it, even with all the ways to be an individual nobody comes out and says "Be yourself--as long as its alright with us."
Now what does this have to do with Sub(counter?)culture?
Well Buford, I'm glad you asked. This all has to do with subversion. Subversion of things we take for granted. True individuality. In the greater sense, things are running pretty smoothly--that is we're not on the brink of a plague and people aren't dying in the streets. The fear of mortality that really hits home when human beings are being killed by the millions on battlefields, in villages, and in death camps, creates an intensely powerful energy...and though it was forged from fire and bone and tears--it can be distilled into a beautiful appreciation for the world we lay upon and the people we lay upon it with. I do believe there's appreciation drought in the world right now.
Food in seconds? Yes, please! I'll go ahead and toss this wrapper into a koi pond, you won't mind?
and
You mean to tell me that President Obama won't come to MY house, yank down MY pants and wipe my butt for me? OUTRAGEOUS!
What is our 'underground' based on? Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for hedonism--but it seems like the outliers in years past were at least sticking it to someone. Who are we sticking it to now?
Cuz we've gotta' stick it somewhere.
To be continued...
Love love love~!!
Dak
P.S. No, I didn't go through your entire Facebook album looking for pictures of your butt.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
A Cry For Help: 'Comedy' at the Off Kilt
Lolo parallel parks the car outside of the Off Kilt (Haha, note the two stars) at around nine last night, while her friend (a teensy Taiwanese girl with a dash of a Napoleonic complex) freaks out about cars possibly leaping out of the bushes to hit us. As we walk in, Lil' Sassypants informs me that it's either bad comedy or bad DJ night.
"Bad like...bad music?" I ask. "Like one sustained note for an hour?"
"No no,"
"Because that's very avant garde."
"No...like...he'll stop the song and have to spend three minutes looking for the next one."
"Ouch."
We walk over to the bar and I take a look around. It's dark and loud, and the people inside seem like the type to get rowdy drunk and start headbutting one another. One of the bartenders was a chiseled-face guy who was either gay or a regular on a soap opera. The other was a miniskirted gal who had her 'bartender shield' on. Oh that? That's what attractive bartenders eventually develop after being sloppily hit on by the 4,237th too-loud guy that really truly believes he will take her home that night.
We grab some drinks and take a seat at an empty (RED FLAG #1) booth toward the center of the place, near the stage (RED FLAGS # 2, 3, 4, and 5-30.) The overly loud 90s song ends with 2 minutes of scuffling, which leads me to believe it's bad DJ night. Oh...oh was I wrong.
"How's everybody doin'?" A spectacled host shouts into a microphone. Our table is front and center, so I can't avoid making polite eye contact. This, I will eventually find out, yields some hilarious results.
"Good." I respond. I'm one of about four people who say anything back. This is due to the fact that its NINE THIRTY on a WEDNESDAY and there were roughly 14 people in the bar, including the 8 man lineup of comedians. Things are getting exciting already--because I can feel the desperation in the host's repeated attempts at audience rapport already. I also realize that me, Lolo, Sassy, and whoever joins us are going to be at the epicenter of it all. Good thing I wore my vest.
I'll say right now--there was possibly one or two funny things said during 'comedy night', and neither was by a comedian.
The main problem was the fact that they all had the idea that it was a bad house--and I won't argue with them there. It wasn't late enough for people to be drunk enough to laugh loudly enough (TRIPLE ENOUGH BONUS), and all the race and sex jokes they were throwing out there--with increasing volume and urgency--just weren't landing. They just weren't that funny. And hey, I'm sure the job is hard--but the solution isn't to try and tear the audience a new one every time your shit gets no response. OH and don't get me wrong--I got a HUGE kick out of it. I'll give some examples of what they said-
"Yeah THIS guy's got the idea. He's got TWO ladies." To me, sitting with Lolo and Sassy.
"Yep." I reply.
"Which one you gonna' fuck tonight?"
"Neither." I say.
He looks at me.
"Girl, you sexy. You sexy as hell. I'd get you pregnant on PURPOSE." one guy says to sassy.
She glares at him. I giggle.
"Girl, why you grumpy? You from grumpyville?"
"I'm from 'Don't Talk To Retarded Commediansville'."
Sassy is awesome.
"Retarded?" the guy does an impression of a retarded person. Apparently it's either this or his 'Japanese Orgasm'--which he would've done, except Sassy isn't a kind of Asian he has a joke for.
"HEY, LOOKS LIKE WE'VE GOT THE MATH CLUB OVER HERE." says a woman who is actually a character Tash would make up for Sketch N' Sniff. "WHAT'S GOING ON, MATH CLUB?"
"Long division, mostly." I reply.
"Ey yo, this guy's dressed like Kanye. What up, Kanye?"
This was, I realize only too late, a perfect time to take the mike and say, "Listen, I'm real proud of you, and Ima' let you finish--but Eddie Murphy had some of the best audience referential comedy of ALL TIME."
At me and Lolo. "Yeah, you know they fuckin'. He's doin' that thing where he got his hand on her thigh like 'we gon fuck tonight'."
If by 'thigh' he meant 'knee' and by 'we gon fuck tonight' he meant 'we gon talk about how jealous we are of her boyfriend in Syria' then he's right on the money.
Eventually, we took off. It was just getting too terrible. It was like squishing a spider, then watching it drag itself across the floor on its remaining legs. The rest of the night was way more fun...and way funnier.
Love love love and Cocoa Puffs,
Dakabilly
"Bad like...bad music?" I ask. "Like one sustained note for an hour?"
"No no,"
"Because that's very avant garde."
"No...like...he'll stop the song and have to spend three minutes looking for the next one."
"Ouch."
We walk over to the bar and I take a look around. It's dark and loud, and the people inside seem like the type to get rowdy drunk and start headbutting one another. One of the bartenders was a chiseled-face guy who was either gay or a regular on a soap opera. The other was a miniskirted gal who had her 'bartender shield' on. Oh that? That's what attractive bartenders eventually develop after being sloppily hit on by the 4,237th too-loud guy that really truly believes he will take her home that night.
We grab some drinks and take a seat at an empty (RED FLAG #1) booth toward the center of the place, near the stage (RED FLAGS # 2, 3, 4, and 5-30.) The overly loud 90s song ends with 2 minutes of scuffling, which leads me to believe it's bad DJ night. Oh...oh was I wrong.
"How's everybody doin'?" A spectacled host shouts into a microphone. Our table is front and center, so I can't avoid making polite eye contact. This, I will eventually find out, yields some hilarious results.
"Good." I respond. I'm one of about four people who say anything back. This is due to the fact that its NINE THIRTY on a WEDNESDAY and there were roughly 14 people in the bar, including the 8 man lineup of comedians. Things are getting exciting already--because I can feel the desperation in the host's repeated attempts at audience rapport already. I also realize that me, Lolo, Sassy, and whoever joins us are going to be at the epicenter of it all. Good thing I wore my vest.
I'll say right now--there was possibly one or two funny things said during 'comedy night', and neither was by a comedian.
The main problem was the fact that they all had the idea that it was a bad house--and I won't argue with them there. It wasn't late enough for people to be drunk enough to laugh loudly enough (TRIPLE ENOUGH BONUS), and all the race and sex jokes they were throwing out there--with increasing volume and urgency--just weren't landing. They just weren't that funny. And hey, I'm sure the job is hard--but the solution isn't to try and tear the audience a new one every time your shit gets no response. OH and don't get me wrong--I got a HUGE kick out of it. I'll give some examples of what they said-
"Yeah THIS guy's got the idea. He's got TWO ladies." To me, sitting with Lolo and Sassy.
"Yep." I reply.
"Which one you gonna' fuck tonight?"
"Neither." I say.
He looks at me.
"Girl, you sexy. You sexy as hell. I'd get you pregnant on PURPOSE." one guy says to sassy.
She glares at him. I giggle.
"Girl, why you grumpy? You from grumpyville?"
"I'm from 'Don't Talk To Retarded Commediansville'."
Sassy is awesome.
"Retarded?" the guy does an impression of a retarded person. Apparently it's either this or his 'Japanese Orgasm'--which he would've done, except Sassy isn't a kind of Asian he has a joke for.
"HEY, LOOKS LIKE WE'VE GOT THE MATH CLUB OVER HERE." says a woman who is actually a character Tash would make up for Sketch N' Sniff. "WHAT'S GOING ON, MATH CLUB?"
"Long division, mostly." I reply.
"Ey yo, this guy's dressed like Kanye. What up, Kanye?"
This was, I realize only too late, a perfect time to take the mike and say, "Listen, I'm real proud of you, and Ima' let you finish--but Eddie Murphy had some of the best audience referential comedy of ALL TIME."
At me and Lolo. "Yeah, you know they fuckin'. He's doin' that thing where he got his hand on her thigh like 'we gon fuck tonight'."
If by 'thigh' he meant 'knee' and by 'we gon fuck tonight' he meant 'we gon talk about how jealous we are of her boyfriend in Syria' then he's right on the money.
Eventually, we took off. It was just getting too terrible. It was like squishing a spider, then watching it drag itself across the floor on its remaining legs. The rest of the night was way more fun...and way funnier.
Love love love and Cocoa Puffs,
Dakabilly
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