Read This!!!

I had a great weekend featuring at the Baltimore Comedy Factory with Rob Cantrell and Alicia Gomes. Five of the seven shows sold-out and the crowds were near perfect. Most of the time, you do a show, and you think it was just okay, but could have been a lot better. But these crowds left little to be desired. Thank you Baltimore.

In addition to the shows, I went to McDonald’s with Frank Hong after one of my sets. I’d be lying if I said this McDonald’s wasn’t sketchy, but you’d think they would be able to press buttons that correspond with what you order. Wrong. I ordered the Chicken McNuggets. Nothing else on the menu sounds similar to Chicken McNuggets. After waiting for a few minutes, they handed me a bag. I asked for Sweet and Sour Sauce. The girl looked at me like I just asked for lighter fluid to put on my pancakes, and reluctantly handed me one sauce packet. I asked for two, since it was 10 nuggets. I said the words “10 nuggets.” She told me it’s 10 cents for another packet. Guess who had exact change? End of transaction. We then brought our food back to the club. I opened my bag, reached for the nuggets. There were no nuggets. Instead, they gave me a fish sandwich. How do you mess that up? Retardation, that’s how. There are no similarities there. How could she not be tipped off by my sauce requests, and even mentioning “10 nuggets”? Because she never learned to read good.

Baltimore.

I say that instead of overturning Roe vs. Wade, we pass another law that says you can abort someone who gives you a fish sandwich when you order chicken nuggets, as long as they are under 40 years old and aren’t legitimately retarded. There will be no killing of actual retarded people under my plan. Let’s get that straight.

I revisited McDonald’s the next night and noticed that on the menu, they give you the option to add an additional fish patty to the fish sandwich for only a dollar. That is disgusting. Two deep-fried patties of artificial fish product, topped off by a piece of yellow matter that they call “American Cheese,” but I will always refer to as “yellow matter.” Cheese doesn’t taste like that. I’ve had cheese.

I didn’t shave for about two weeks until one day last week. My facial hair is patchy and my hair is blonde, which prompted the following comments from random people:

“You look like an indie-rocker.”

“ I want to you to do me in the face.”

“You look like Che Gueverra.”

I thought the first and third comments were fine. But the second? I’m not a piece of meat, ladies.

The funny thing about a blonde beard is that it’s like a 3-d picture. You have no idea what’s going on from far away but once you get up close, you’re like, “I think it’s supposed to be a beard. I can’t tell though because it’s skin color. I want him to do me in the face.”

Jay Hastings and I went to Freddie’s Beach Bar in Crystal City to do the open mic tonight. I had never been there before. It’s not just a gay bar. It’s an extremely-gay bar… flamingos, rainbows, Liza Manelli murals, etc… We got there at eight, when it was supposed to be starting. The doors were locked. It was closed. They closed for the Golden Globes. Can we say “stereotype”?

Then Jay and I went to Soho’s open mic. It was packed with people who were too cool to laugh. I seriously hated everyone in that room with a passion, except for the comics, and Zedge and Evan, who work there. They go to comedy shows and refuse to laugh just to be ironic. They refuse to listen to music unless it’s by a band with a name like “Soliloquy’s Conscience,” “The Last Devestation,” “Elroy Jetson and the Muts” or “Madonna.”