What You Are Laughing At

This One's For The Ladies

Gotta start on a serious note. Ladies, to reiterate what you've heard, read, been told, and told your friends, WATCH YOUR DRINKS ON THE SOCIAL CIRCUITS. Two dear friends of mine had their drinks drugged last weekend, and got out of the situation by the grace of instincts, and a guardian angel-sent taxi cab. There are some seriously lecherous MF'ers out there who really don't care that you aren't interested, have a family that cares about you, or guy friends who would rock the Marcellus Wallace on your enemies with little provocation.

The first way to tell somebody has doctored your drink is that you'll feel really drunk way faster than you thought. Room-spinning, stomach-turning, Anna Nicole Smith-eloquent drunk. Get a bartender, call a cab, go to the doctor, just get the F out of there and get safe. You'll probably need a scrunchie 'cuz you'll probably throw up. That's GOOD, get it out of your system.
It's happening a lot more in the Seattle area. It doesn't matter if you aren't a Girl in the throes of Going Wild, we all deserve a social goodtime, but like any party, a few assholes stink it up for the rest of us. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's time we drink responsibly. Trust your instincts.

Oh My Lord, This is A Woman...
French Tennis Player Amelie Mauresmo and her paleolithic paw.


Reasons # 784-787 Why This Place Is In The Can

784: The hair-pulling managers I am creating efficiency and cost reports for were manic as of 5:45pm yesterday. First off, that's way too late to make me think they had an efficient day. If you can't get it done in 6 hours, fix your assembly line. This morning, when all the reports need to be perused and approved by said managers... they are all gone. I'm thinking of pasting a chart into a report they present that shows how much they are paid per year vs. how much their knowledge is actually worth.

785,786,787: Recently in the news there were 3 local, off-beat character stories. Larry, the guy who eBay'ed his ex-wife's wedding dress, the dude with the GOTMILF license plate, and a 38 year old man who was stalking Avril Lavigne. All of these people work for The Hole. Yes, they are, or were, in the stalker's case, my co-workers. Larry Starr is cool as hell, that guy is as funny and real as they come, no beef with him. The GOTMILF guy actually had a very funny letter campaign back and forth with the Dept. of Licensing due to some tightass being offended by what the letter "F" on his plates represented. I want to F that person's mom in the back of their minivan with the grandkids watching on closed-circuit LCD player. And the stalker guy, well, he's in jail or some mental facility. I totally see why. Have you heard Avril Lavigne? Gawd, that's horrendous caterwauling Great White North style. Welcome to my Tuesday.

Waiting To Laugh... Waiting... HA... More...

Last night was the weekly sloughing of dead premises at the Underbelly. There were highlights to be spoken of, but most of it needs to be called out for the crap that it was. Almost every rule of being a comic was broken, from not playing to stereotypes to being unfunny. I'll try to be fair, but when you see your calling bashed in the funny pouch with a clown nose-topped dick-joke ya go a little Sean Penn. Deal.
Attention...
This is going to be mostly uncensored, and I'm using names. These are simply my opinions, and if you don't agree with them, you're probably not a very funny comic. This has only to do with a person's performance, not them as a person, unless your name is Brad, then you are an idiot.
Also, if you think i'm being mean, deep down I would like to see a very strong comedy scene in Seattle so that everybody evolves and gets better. This is review, not the truth. Enjoy.


Killorn brought some awesome chocolate chip cookies that were devoured by the comics. It was very sweet of her, and gawd knows I love me a good cookie. Thanks to Brad for eating more than your share you idiot. Killorn rocks.

• James "Oh, That Guy" Heneghen MC'ed the event and was surely the highlight of the night, a pro, a vet (literally) and a good guy. Despite numerous attempts to liken him to Neil Young all night, I like Heneghen. Thanks to Brad for the bad Neil Young refrences you idiot.
  
• Suzanne Park was first up for the night. She's Korean, and as you can imagine, she has an amazing amount of jokes that an Asian comic can do about their crazy family. She started with a joke about her dad not being able to pronounce his "R"s or "L"s and how his best friend Larry wasn't cool with it. Why stereotype groups when they will do it themselves? BTW, Suzanne, don't wear those pants on stage again. They cast a shadow that was reminiscent of Gene Shalit. A quote from her website: "So here is my big pet peeve: guys who wear XXL athletic department shirts. If you're one of them, stop wearing those damn shirts. A-holes." How come I didn't think of that? Oh right, because that's not funny.
  
• James Alberson. Wow. This was crap. Starting off with a Kobe Bryant "rape is okay" angle, then switching it up at the end to make it seem like he is, indeed, a love-makin' man. You had me at "I wanna talk about somethin'..." You had me wretching. Stop wasting time and get back to being short.
  
• TK Kasnick. Now with Reddish Hair! I just can't watch this act. I had a moment last night while in the bathroom, TK's on stage, and I could see one of those clips on A&E talking about stand-up comedy. A voiceover in my head said "... and some just never get it." Nothing Brad said during this set was funny because he is an idiot.
  
• TJ Orthmeyer. What I would look like if I had never learned to walk. A mountain of a man, he stood so far to the front of the stage that he couldn't see the light of the laser pointed on his chest. Man, his eyes are WAY back in his head. Chongo like funny. More delivery, more energy, get your hand out of your gawddam pocket. Are you on stage or trying to strike out at a bar? Luckily Carl saved us by playing music. Brad was an idiot.
  
• Updated at 3:21pm: Bob Lindsey. Freddie Mercury, but married to a woman. I think it was his first time on stage. From there he did a street joke and another joke I'd heard about a one-eyed iguana. Eh, it was what it was.
• Blaine Reeder. He always gives it up for the MC. Not sure about the Guess glasses and Punk Rock collection, but hey, he doesn't watch TV, so we know he's weird. Good ninja cyborg joke, took it out near the ledge, is working on some new jokes and I'm sure he'd love to tell you all about them. Nice work Reeder. We'll return to Blaine later.
• Joe Larson. Simply adorable.
• Chad Roberts. Well, he says he is not gay... good set, Chad did his funnies and kept it moving. It's so nice to see a lineup of pros here, Blaine, Joe, and Chad. A solid move through the first 1/3rd of the lineup. Nice work Roberts. As always, Chad's the best person to sit next to in the back of the room. Soft hands. Nevermind.
• Jeremy Whitman. He's dark, and it sneaks up on you. Fawkin' funny guy, he pulled up short on a necrophilia joke, and in fact told me later that he had 3 more tag lines on it. It's almost ungodly to have that many, but it shows talent. Good work Whitman.
• Jeremiah Hill. EMT. Got it. Good guy, I can't pick on him. Close your eyes and he sounds like a woman, okay? Happy?
• Dorothy Nesbit. DOA. Kidding. She's precious in that substitute teacher kind of way, but only to little kids. She may get her lunch eaten above grade 5. And NO, we're not sleeping together, but that's not from a lack of my trying.
• Geoff Brousseau. Even when he's off, he is on. Last night he was on by being a little off. Get it? Started with a perfectly written joke about rising gas prices and the war, and still has the finest drunk-driving joke ever written. His shirt made him look like a little kid. So damn huggable. Nice work Shoogs.
• Major. Follow this pile's stage name with any derogatory name or noun, and you've summed up his adult life. About 6'3'', 300lbs. Bald. Possible "white power" tattoo on the left upper arm. Camo pants tucked into boots. Black muscle shirt and pocket vest. If you want to wear a muscle shirt, FIRST, you must have a muscle, no? How can you get that fat and have NO muscle tone? Quote from his act: "I told my girlie to take off her panties. And she said No, No. She's not that kind of girl." (reaches into his pocket to pull out red silkies.) Thank you Crap With Feet. Enjoy Militia Weekly.
• Lizzy Pilcher. The second tallest paramilitary performer, bedecked in a Soviet hockey jersey. Brousseau offered to set up a Pilcher vs. Major grudge match. No go. Lizzy is funny, straight-up, but she's got this mental block when she goes on stage that I've seen her slap to the side and get to the real Lizzy. Just relax Lizzy. Blaine's not booking you. Yet.
• Robb Westvang. Hmm... when is homicide justifiable? Here's a guy who saw Miami Vice and said "Yes. This is my look." Spikey hair, constant 4-day growth of beard. He'd look cool if he were taller, and didn't have spikey hair and that beard. And wasn't him. All I heard of this set was "Guys, if you can't find the G-spot in 7 years, you are OUT. I have 6 months left." Is anyone else drunk?
• Bryley Hull. I didn't see this set. I was upstairs when Bryley was on the stage. But we did hang at The Red Door in Fremont a couple weeks back and I like Ms. Hull aplenty.
• Doug Gale. Oh you beautiful elf. To craft a joke that gives the "I'm Rubber, You're Glue" defense in a legal setting, along with tackling gay rights all under 30 seconds, I'm sorry, I have not what you have, sir. I bow before thee. You win. Brad is an idiot.
• Bobbie Jean. Why did she have to open her mouth? Puns, sex jokes, no mention of the fact that she wasn't wearing panties. Can't confirm, but she looks like the kind of gal who likes comfort and curb sexing. I loved her boots and bangs, which is the name of the first Faster Pussycat album.
• Ed Rubin. Stop listening to CR Larsen's sets. Deal?
• My hands hurt.
• Peter Greyy. Peter says he pooped it. I say BOO to that, Peter. You did better than most who got up, and Peter's a great guy. Dude, do whatever you like, but remember to hone something. I know you write a lot and there's the want to try everything. Do what you do. I ain't got beef witchoo.
• HEREIN THE FINEST TAG OF THE NIGHT. Peter ended on a Julia Childs joke that was summed up about how Ms. Childs wanted to be sauteed and consumed at her funeral. Heneghen tagged it with "Well, nobody wanted to eat her when she was alive." Okay, drugs aren't all bad.
• Daniel Juan. It was his first time on stage and he tried to get off early, but the crowd championed his cause. He did his time. I salute you sir. Never come back.
• Shawn Cain. This is where the show hit the dead spot on the ocean. Called "up-currents," they look non-threatening, but the water of the ocean is smooth because it's the top of a harsh upward-thrusting current, and it is unpleasant if you're unprepared. To sum up Shawn Cain's act, I quote Shawn Cain: "Vagina Blood Fart." Three nouns, non-sequitir, non-humorous. He made a joke about his sister being named Candy Cain, and then a peppermint reference. There must be a sacrifice.
• Something Van Bibber. Technically not a midget, but very short. He got on stage in a really orange shirt, and either sat or put his butt area on the stage stool (his new nickname, btw) but looked like he never sat down. Short and weeeird. Hates gay people and good writing. Tried to go over time. I almost started doing shots here. Of heroin. Into my glans. Look it up.
• James Lewis. Despite what your acting coach has told you, James, the crowd you are performing for is not on your shoes. Look up. Hi. You stood stage right the whole time, as if you were ready to run from the lights as soon as possible. Considering that you delivered a set reminiscent of David Cross, minus the wit, humor, and spit-shine, golly, it's okay to bump yourself some nights. To have no delivery, no presence, and no definable punchlines and yet still be on stage is some sort of phantasmic oxymoron of existing in a comedy club. One more of those and I'm sorry, we can't help you. I would have settled for a joke about prostate milking from you, just to see if you had any life experience beyond what you've sniffed from "The Daily Show," remote in one hand, al dente ween in the other. If you're going political, be political, not Sci-Fi. President Bush taking poor people to Mars? After your set I slapped a W sticker on my fun-bag. Your neck-conjoined aunts love it. You inspired me, though. Today I bought a throwing knife.
• Woody Wood. Two words: Fitted Shirt. He was wearing his dad's clothes, and he looked like a dooooork. He's almost 21, so we can look forward to him dying in a bar fight before Hanukkah.
• Larry G. I get it. He's a ladies man. How can you not fill 3 minutes? A thong as a punchline? Larry G is back. You've been warned. I wanted more, I really did.
• Gervin. Got 'er done. GOT. ER. DUN. I wanted to drink beers with Gervs post-show but homey bounced quick. I didn't get the "Drug Emporium" tee, however. I'd say ironic, but he looked too hoi polloi to grasp the level. Either way, I e-mailed him to wingman for me this weekend.
• Dan Moore. Mini-wolverine. After Larry G and Gervin, I thought Dan was being projected onto a screen. He's wee, but precious. It's important to go slow, but my gawd, at one point he was retreating. I expected more out of Dan. He got heckled by Major, for crying out loud. You get heckled by a guy who once ate a baby, step it up! STEP. IT. Yeah.
  
  So that's that! Thanks for hanging in there. I had to relive it, and now I'm going to punch someone with crutches.
  And now I hear that HAX TV is off tonight... FAWK!

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