Check...PLEASE?!?!

This weekend was a pretty stellar one for shows. Friday I opened for my buddy Anthony Rankin at PD's Pub in Squirrel Hill. Had a great time and while music shows, at least in my experience, are usually not the easiest stages for comedy I had a great time on stage and got to watch some stellar music from an excellent band. Last night I did a show in White Oak, PA to a sold-out crowd that was there to laugh and enjoy a comedy show, which makes all the difference in the world. My 30 minutes up there felt like 10, I can't say that happens too often, was a nice way to end a month. I learned a few things too...calling Christopher Columbus an embarrassment to Italian-Americans in a room full of older Western PA Italian-Americans proved a bit too risky, fortunately was able to get the room back with the relationship material. So it goes, if I didn't want to take a risk or two and put something challenging out there than I wouldn't be doing comedy, I would've went into juggling.

That was the good news, now for the not-as-good news. First, I will very much miss Franz from the Hold Steady. The Hold Steady has been one of my favorite bands to see live the past couple years. Franz, for those of you that don't know, was the keyboardist. He recently parted ways with the band. Back in Indiana I interviewed Franz for submission to one of the local media outlets, to be honest I can't remember which, it may have been for the radio, I honestly can't recall. Anyway, as soon as I got him on the phone my reception was terrible and it wasn't picking up on the audio equipment at all. I couldn't decipher anything he was saying. I was too embarrassed to tell him that I jacked up the equipment so I just cut it short after about four questions.

"Wow, that was short."

"Yeah, it's a 30-second segment short thing we've been working on." Total bullshit. Anyway, my interview with Franz didn't work out. But, it did give my girlfriend and I two free tickets to their show in Indianapolis that night.

Friday night before the show at PD's I did something I've never done before and hope to never have to do again in my life, I didn't tip a waiter. Gave him nada. This dude was the worst waiter I've ever had in my life, ever. First, dude forgot our ticket, completely botched it. Which, no biggie, mistakes happen, the show wasn't until 10. He never re-filled our water, never checked on us, at one point I saw him walk by and look at us, he had an "oh, shit" look on his face and then he looked down at his tickets. He never turned us in.

Finally after 30 minutes we asked about our food. "I'll go check on it." 10 minutes later dude shows up, checked on another table and then turned to us, "o, I checked on your food, there was some conflict in the kitchen, they'll take half-off your meals, sorry about that." And then he gave a whatever wave. This dude was totally checked out. You don't give a customer a whatever wave, he was down to 10 percent at this point. Especially since he lied. Conflict in the kitchen? Really? My girlfriend ordered a salad.

We continued to wait, I told my girlfriend if our food didn't come by 20 after we were walking out. It came at 18 after. The waiter said he'd get me some ketchup, I told him please. I also told him I had somewhere to be so could we get the check now. 10 minutes later he dropped off the check. Never apologized, never asked us how it was, nothing. I never got my ketchup either. I had to go to the hostess and ask for ketchup. O, I almost forgot, at one point said waiter dropped a plate of food all over the floor, never apologized to anyone, goes without saying at this point. To top it off, he didn't CLEAN IT UP. One of the other waitresses cleaned it up for him 5 minutes later. Let me point out too this establishment was not very crowded.

Now, if you're going to be a piece of shit to customers, that's your choice, you can deal with the consequences of getting a low gratuity, but if you hang your co-workers out to dry too, then you don't deserve a penny as far as I'm concerned. In case you're wondering, the food was mediocre at best.

When I got my tab I wrote a big fat ZERO on the tip. Then, I wrote an explanation on the back of the receipt.

"You did this to yourself. Just so you know I'm a multi-millionaire. I've invested well and I've cashed in. Whenever I go out to eat I hand out $100-bills just because I get a kick out of making a stranger's day. In fact, I'm so well off that I'm able to dedicate the rest of my life to my childhood dream of being a stand-up comedian, check out my website. Come out to a show sometime, I may talk about you and how shitty you are at your craft."

I don't want to say the name of said establishment, but if you ever find yourself in the Regent Square neighborhood of Pittsburgh I recommend eating anywhere that isn't Dunning's Bar and Grill.

Sam I am

When I'm in an elevator I wouldn't normally frequent I always tell any stranger I may be riding with that I'll see them tomorrow.

I was desperate for work. We all were. This was back in '07. The economy was fine, being in a small college town with no industry was the issue. My roommates and I used the same resources and eventually we realized we were all applying for the same jobs...which helped in the end because we could tip each other on which ones were the pyramid schemes.

The ad said "Get Paid to Wave." I could wave. Hell, I had just gotten a degree a month earlier, this should be cake. At the interview guy told me he was also looking for someone with a background in marketing. Marketing. I took a class on that in college. The professor had a thick East Coast accent so I just remember him saying MAHketing all the time. I also remember a girl I was seeing at the time was taking the class and found it necessary to study way more often than I did. During our study sessions I'd read for about 20 minutes or so then I'd get bored and would try to get her attention by doing the hamburger. (If you're confused, Google it, and then do the hamburger at the next party you attend, it's the new craze.) Then I'd fart. Things with us never worked out. Though, to date many of my exes have been to every single comedy show...I've bombed at...in spirit.

Anyway, marketing, I could do that. I told him so. And for that season I wrote radio commercials, press releases, newspaper ads, and then I'd go out on the streets in costume and hand out coupons, talk to the public, whatever was necessary. The good, the bad and the ugly.

Speaking of radio, the job worked around my shift at the community radio station which was a 1-3pm on Friday afternoon, prime afternoon music mix. Our ad-pool was top notch too.

Ode to simpler times.

End of the Year

I spent these last days of 2009 rearranging, transferring, signing, filing, running, pondering...moving! Today I got a new driver's license and registered to vote in the state of Pennsylvania...again. Eventually, I even made dinner plans to say good-bye to a year I'm beyond happy to say good-bye to. It seems like only a week ago I was greeting 2009 with a bit of optimism. While it had its high points this year shriveled like a cat-turd in baking soda.

Awhile back I had a friend that was considering working abroad. Something I've always considered. He told me while he decided against it...he wanted to get on the ball to start a family. Dude was and still is single. "You're basing your life plans on someone you haven't even met yet." "Well, yeah, I guess, sort of."

Would make for some weird arguments down the road wouldn't it? "Damn it honey, you ruined my dreams of backpacking Europe for two years with that inheritance money I received, at least give me this blow-job!!"

"When were you trying to backpack Europe?"

"Three years before we met!"

I think instead of these tacky-shallow promise and chastity rings you see these future-psychiatric-file cretins wearing there should be a different type of ring and a different type of promise: The Live Your Life Promise.

"Future soul-mate, if you're out there I want you to pursue the things you want to pursue and let the ride take you where it will. Don't try to force anything or assume the path you want to take is wrong just because some of your peers may have never learned to think for themselves. Don't worry about me because you can guarantee I'm living the best I can and I'll see you when our paths cross. In the meantime I suggest you do the same because otherwise you'll just be a walking basket case of regret and shopping coupons and quite frankly that's nothing I feel like waking up to ever."

See you in 2010.

Tiger Woods and Kurt Cobain

I never liked Tiger Woods. Never. It's those class-act-pretty-boys we always have to look out for. They're the devils in the blue dresses ten times out of ten. I remember the first time he won the title. He was crying, his parents were there, it was historical. He was a class act, a role-model, just a swell guy. Every kid got a set of golf clubs for Christmas that year, myself included. I always sucked at the damn game.

I remember in the 4th grade or something similar, maybe it was 5th or 6th I can't be sure, we were allowed to write a book report on any book we wanted. Usually, there were restrictions, but, this time in particular we were given free reign...Any book we wanted, as long as it had chapters.

Naturally, I wanted to pick a book I already read, and not just any book I've read, but the one I've read the most. Which, at the time, was "Come As You Are: The Story of Nirvana" by Michael Azerrad. I still consider that one of the best rock biographies I've ever read. I met Michael Azerrad about two years ago in Seattle at the About A Son screening. Talked to him for a bit, told him I really dug his books and considered him one of the top music journalists out there these days.

Anyway, turns out the teacher was embellishing on our liberties a bit, because I wasn't permitted to do my report on Nirvana. I never cared for said teacher, she didn't last long. I asked her why, she told me that a biography wasn't appropriate.

"But it has chapters."

"It doesn't matter."

Later I found out that she was letting another student in the class do their report on a BIOGRAPHY on Tiger Woods. Being the tempered little guy that I was I confronted her again.

"Why are you letting (forget) do his report on Tiger Woods? That's a biography."

"Tiger Woods is a class guy, Kurt Cobain was a drug addict that shot himself."

All the while I'd have to see every kid and adult I know form some mawkish obsession with Tiger Woods for the next year or so until his fifteen minutes became a little more subdued...

Well, well, o, how times have changed. Class act? Role model? Don't get me wrong, dude got a piece of Joslyn James, all power. But, I'll just settle for her movies. The sponsors are crumbling, his image forever tarnished, and yet the Bleach re-issue is selling quite well. Which, by the way, the live tracks are great. Wish I could see my old teacher sometime, like the time in 2006 when I ran into my ultra-conservative republican accounting professor the day after the democrats won.

Smells like Teen Spirit? No. Smells like Karma.

The Art of Being in Public...

...Is one I've never mastered. In fact, I realize that I shouldn't be in public at all unless I've had at least two cups of coffee. Anything less and I'm not equipped. I'm like a football player taking the field without pads, a musician going on stage without an instrument, or somebody that supports Sarah Palin without understanding any of her politics...err...somebody that supports Sarah Palin.

Today I went out after cup one, pummeled my way through the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner later. There was one cashier, dude in front of me was giving her a sales pitch on how he could save her money on the candy that they sell. Apparently he worked for some candy wholesaler or something. "Who do you get your candy from? Gee, we can save you 75 cents per unit!" This went on for a good five minutes, I found out the cashier lived in Ballard with her husband and really loves the neighborhood, they might move to the suburbs soon because they want to start a family, and on and on and on and I'm clearly waiting and honestly don't you realize this is your job and how the hell did some guy decide he wanted to spend the rest of his waking days with you given you can't even manage a TWO PERSON LINE!

Eventually, she noticed my rolling eyes and rung me up. "Do you want a bag?" "Yes." She looked at me strangely. "What? One word, that's all I've got for you, I don't have anything to sell you, I don't distribute candy, if I did I'd be bored." We weren't connecting. If she ever saw me do comedy she probably wouldn't dig it, if we ever met at a bar we wouldn't talk long, and if she was ever a cashier and I was a patron we probably wouldn't see eye-to-eye because she'd babble on and on to a candy distributor that takes his job too seriously.

After that I went across the street for some lunch at one of the busiest sandwich shops in Seattle. Of course I had to wait. It's a small joint, cash only, so I stood off in a corner while I was waiting for my sandwich. As luck would have it the table closest to me and within earshot was two people on what appeared to be THEIR FIRST DATE! Jackpot! I love this stuff, really. I listen all the time, then I try to gauge whether or not they have a shot, who's into who, it's a riot. Dude was way more into her than she was him. Eventually she brought up the ex.

"He told me my cats were dirty, that did it, we were done."

"So, do you like Dexter?"

Really guy? A TV show? That's all you've got? She already pulled the ex card, hope you didn't pay for this.

"No, not really. I don't know, I mean I do still kind of miss him..."

Crash and burn dude, crash and burn. It's over. Tables opened up around me, I could've sat down and waited, but like hell I was moving.

I even gave guy a topic but he botched it.

"What's with that creepy red-headed guy standing over there?"

"I don't know but it looks like he's laughing at us...and he's writing something down."

"I'm getting security."

Not a word of it. Maybe it's a bit insensitive that I got a kick out of a guy's failed date but hell, the sandwich was only $7.50, and I'm sure he makes a good living. Maybe he distributes candy.

To measure success...

In the metaphorical marathon that is health care reform our government just jogged 10 feet. (And during that 10 feet trampled some womens' rights and continued to pad the pockets of the parasites we've come to recognize as the insurance industries). With the amount of back-patting the governments are doing after this 10-foot scramble the marathon may never be finished in our life-times my fellow tech-happy-slightly-cynical-twenty-somethings. Alas, the world is full of pros, cons, crashing bores, scandals, failures, and every so often something interesting gets put on paper or record.

I won't be on stage as often this week. Main reason being I've got tickets to see the Mountain Goats tomorrow and the Pixies (Doolittle tour!) on Thursday. I figure I'll learn something watching people more advanced at their craft than I am at mine.

The Seattle International Comedy Competition is going on this week and I was hoping to catch some of it tonight since some of my friends are in it this year, but I got into the Steeler game, plus the beginning of the wet season has its way of encouraging me to stay indoors. After the game I put on a documentary about cults just to assure that I won't have pleasant dreams about another Super Bowl victory but instead am guaranteed twisted nightmares remnant of a Rob Zombie flick and I'll wake up in a cold sweat, maybe with heartburn.

My favorite bars are those that remind of a Bukowski novel. The place down the street from me, during the week at least, seems to be in that vein. Sadly, it took me over two years to give it a shot, and I've only got a few weeks left out here. I've been digging it though. One of the candidates for mayor drinks here on a regular basis, one afternoon he was telling me about the corruption and the votes unaccounted for, he's been robbed of several thousand he claimed, King county is up-in-arms, we're a sinking ship...Could be a drunk or he could be a right drunk, stranger things have happened.

"Some poets are drunks but not all drunks are poets." Though I'd also add that people that refer to themselves as poets probably aren't poets. What's a poet?

Songs to Stay Sane By

For anyone else that's feeling the grudge of this year of our lord 2009. Lately, I've felt like the main character from "Death of a Salesman." I go from stage to stage and eventually realize there's no money in my pocket. Eventually I'm going to lose it and wander into the same place every day at 8pm and start telling jokes.

"Who is that guy?"

"I think his name's Ron. He comes in every day, nobody has the heart to tell him this is a Funeral Home and he should probably leave."

Anyway friends, load this as a play-list and of course, no need to thank me, just pay it forward.

"This Year" The Mountain Goats--I listen to this everyday as soon as I wake up

"Fall Back Down" Rancid

"Los Angeles is Burning" Bad Religion

"Home for a Rest" Spirit of the West

"Wind Up" Jethro Tull (I'll buy a beer to anyone who can tell me the connection between SOTW and J-Tull, yes, there is one).

"Chris and the Angels" Hamell on Trial

"On and On and On" Catch 22

"The Dug Out" Ladyhawk

"51-7" Camper Van Beethoven

"Five to One" The Doors

"Atlantic City" Bruce Springsteen

"Droid" Selby Tigers