The Geoff Lott Rules Live Tour Of Comedy & Talking

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Friday, April 16, 2004

This Is Worth Every Bead of Sweat on My Furrowed Brow

The company I work for is sending an internal system that keeps track of our Social Security Numbers, bank #s for direct deposits, and other personal information, over to India as part of their "We Suck At Business" plan. India has no privacy laws, at least not to the extent we do in this country, nevermind the spamming, hacking, and calling we endure on a daily basis. I'm not sure what we can do about it, but these are jobs that your friends and neighbors once worked, being given, part & parcel, to another nation. The receiving nation is not to blame. The best we can do is stop supporting the companies that do this.
The schiddy thing is... I still need my job. Until it's taken by the now grown-up kid my family used to send 37-cents a month to feed, clothe and educate. I thought the best he'd do was two goats. Dude, he's getting a Dell.

http://www.cio.com/archive/041504/wireless.html

I'm outta here.

Take Me Home
I Guess You Had To Be There

I headlined over at Pegasus Pizza on Wed. night. I was the headliner, MC,and sound technician. Sound was stellar, btw. MC did a great job. Headliner had a tough time but looked really collected on stage. He ain't kiddin' around.
Anyway, there were only 2 other, uh... people who could get on stage and talk into a microphone (I will not use the term "comedian" for them, although Nicole has potential) so I had to put them up. None of my peeps were there. I started the show kind of late hoping they'd show, but they didn't until I was just about to get up. I started hoping they weren't dissing me, and instead hoped they were caught in a kitchen fire. A-holes. I put The Accountant up and he took a step into an almost too-rowdy room. I would have wrangled it better for him but I was too hopped on cold meds. OTC, though, no Rx's. Sadly...

Rowdy? Why? It's a bar full of regulars. There seems to be a new contingent of blonde girls sitting at the front tables this season, that just dawned on me. They're all really nice, too, and in fact I work with one of them, and she knows what hell it is to be at the Death Star every day. Atkins goes up 2nd and does pretty well just telling a story about a tryst with a drunken engaged gal and her drunken man thing. Nicole's a lesbian, for anybody who's wondering. And she's unemployed. Great comedic potential. She brings along a decent set of peeps, but they were drunk from a full day of drinking and smoking something ya gotta buy from sketchy white dudes with dredlocks and ferrets. Her crew got louder as the night went on and I stopped halfway through a setup to tell them to, if they'd please, lower the volume of their voices to accomodate their neighbors who are trying to listen to the show, but shorter and with something like 19 F-bombs. 2, only 2. They were sideways about that after the show, but it's a free show, for them. I'm working there and people are trying to listen and laugh so if the talkers left they wouldn't be losing any money and we'd all be spared another idiot in a pooka-shell necklace yelling out something in regards to his genitals. Oh, and "From Washington DC Larger Than Life Michael Oliver Carter" better shut the F up after his sets, too. He says he's been at it 13 years, done 1,295 sets, and still goes table to table collecting alms for the insecure. He's a goofball. Really insecure, really unfunny, really really really unfunny. Really. Un..

Funny. Imagine Redd Foxx on speed, in bi-focals and a strap-down cowboy hat. But unfunny. And desperate for attention.

So I go up and did my set and riffed a little here and there and then started playing to the Mafia in the back of the room. I'm not sure what I am to the Mafia, but we're all cool. The riffing stuff did well but I did a joke that fell flatter than a 7th grade girl's locker room and I have NEVER done it as well as the night I first Pegasassed it. It's a joke about how I think I'd like rap music better if rappers were happier. They have pretty amazing lifestyles when they get to the big time, but they still seem so bored with it, and I'd be ecstatic if I'd been able to procure their goods with an 8th-grade vo-cab-a-larry. Then it spirals away from me and blah. So yeah, that's what I know. I'm at Laughs this weekend, 2 more headline shows. I'm not really a headliner, more like a Feature who ChiliDog likes enough to give me a shot. I'll have to thank him for that. Maybe I'll buy him a pooka-shell necklace.

Then Shoogs B (in tha house whaddup?) and Dougles and I went to Weirdo's Tavern and Karaoke Chicken Satay Hut for beersss. I went home alone with thoughts of my awesome girlfriend asleep in "I Walk With A Slight" Olympia, 74 miles away. Hey God, remind me of this one when we talk, mmkay? You were done testing me when that one guy bumped into my leg with a Harley Sportster Oh, and God? Thanks for the good stuff, too, even if Blaine doesn't believe in it.

Oh, and as I finally got my big chance to headline... HBO will be there... 'cause it's free with your hotel room... I'm getting my shot, and this cock is taping his DVD at the Underbelly. Last year I MC'ed for him and he said I didn't suck. I'll take it. Go see him if you get a chance.

It's late. I'm out.

Take Me Home

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Also, I've learned that, for me, talking after 11:30pm starts turning into the equivalent of Parallel Parking. If there's a really wide space for me to work and nobody waiting, I'm pretty golden for getting it done. But if it's tight and it feels like the last chance to do it right, the quicker I make it the better chance I have of doing it right the first time, and then I should just shut it off and call it good.

Otherwise I back into someone's life... CAR, I mean car, and there's damage to repair.
Sometimes they park too close, but that doesn't mean I had to park there. I could have kept going.
Sometimes they want you to hit them, but that doesn't mean you have to gas it and total the thing. You don't have to hit them at all, it's your choice.
And when you get a front-spot to park in, take it. It's about damn time.
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Take Me Home

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

The List

Yesterday was a learning day for Geoffers. I was really up & down yesterday, like I'd be totally on the ball for a while, then not only would I slide off the ball, the ball would bounce up and hit me in mine. My watering eyes would keep me from seeing where the puddle was that I was about to step in. It stopped about there, no bleeding or anything, just a few bumps and a small bruise.

I won't go into the details, but here's what I learned yesterday:
1) "Manager" is only a title. It has no bearing on a person's ability to manage, communicate, or know what they fawk are talking about. The best I can tell, at my company "Manager" means "Whoever's Been Here Longest."

2) When writing an e-mail that expresses how someone you adore makes you feel, leave out any mentions, sentences, or paragraphs about how sh*tty your day at work has been. If you are being sweet, make the sweetness about the other person. If your day's been sh*tty, blog it or write a joke about, but don't bitter the sweet. It's not always about you. Another time, perhaps, but this time, no.

3) When you mention that you are imperfect, make the mention only about yourself. Even if you have no malice behind your words it's not your place to skim past anybody else's realizations of their Being. You will likely end up looking like an a-hole, and probably feeling like one.

4) Sometimes the best you can do is apologize and hope you'll be forgiven. Other times you may drink a bottle of Pinot Noir and black out on the lanai. I usually go for the first option, because I've learned that the lanai is no place for wine black-outs, especially if you snore when you're wasted. Especially if you strip to the nude and sing "Friends In Low Places" when you're wasted. It's best to apologize from the gut and let it go into the past.

5) Some days you learn. Some days you teach. Some days you get detention. Some days you make the honor roll. Some days you get the girl. Some days the girl gets you. Some days you peel out in front of people and they cheer. Some days you peel out and your friend flies out the passenger door to scrape and bruise their bumper on the ground and you feel like an a-hole. And some days you come home and there are notes and nudges all around your home that remind that somebody in this world really does like you for who you are, imperfections and all, and you get a feeling that you may never be able to find the words that express how much it meant. If you try, please see #2 above.

Class is in Session
Geoffers

Take Me Home
Rave Reviews

I had a pretty darn good weekend last weekend… weekend. (3rd time's funniest) I'm in awe over the weather we had. It affected my moods, my skin coloration, my sleep patterns, all in good ways. 80 degrees on April 11th? I'm not sure if I should jump for joy or start looking for frogs falling from the sky.
This past weekend I did 4 sets at Giggles in opening for Dat Phan, who won NBC's "Last Comic Standing" last year. It was the epitome of Comedy in America… a contest (you know how I feel about those) being judged by people who don't really know what it takes to be a great comedian. Popularity contest, basically, and that's fine. I followed The World's Funniest Hot-Tar Roofer, who has really made lemonade out of his life. Now if only that lemonade had some Zoloft in it we wouldn't have to temper humor with wild mood swings. I watched Dat's sets as far into them as possible before accepting the fact that his comedy is really quite hacky, even after he's been at it for 8 years. This is why Stand-up is Ultimate Justice: What really matters in Comedy is how you do on stage. Your PRODUCT. Dat's a very cool guy, but his material is very easy and gets decent laughs. The key is to be cool off-stage as well as respected on it.
My sets were really good as I found my voice a long time ago. The person that I am on-stage is an uncorked version of me, which is good for the stage but could cause issues off of it. I couldn't do as much time as I wanted to do, but that's okay. I was reeeeally out there on Saturday night, and so fully enmeshed into my performance that I felt like I was inside of myself, could see myself telling the jokes. Admittedly I didn't eat much dinner, okay, but it was a feeling not unlike gliding on the water in a rowboat; I could feel the work, and a little of it was taking me a long way so that I could enjoy the moment. This week: Laughs Comedy Club! The bastards didn't even put me on their website. I'm adding $25 to my asking price. At the very least, M, who is in your mug like coffee y'all, should be able to drink for free. I hope she brings a traveller cup.

The Highlight!
On Easter Sunday I headed out to Maple Valley, named so because there is an obscene number of Vine Maple Trees there, and because its more charming than a town named "CarTrunk Methlabton." I spent most of the day there with my family and we hung out, ate, talked, ate, watched The Masters, ate, I think I ate something, then we talked about eating. I'm working out extra hard this week.
Later in the day I cruised up to Auburn to see M, who's hoppin' down the Bunny Trail, as she was visiting family in the area. It was an hour or so of chilling with her tribe, all of them quite nice, even the man known as FatA$$ was on his best-ish behavior. Then we headed out and I felt like heading back to Kenmore was a waste of time, since there was nothing there for me but an empty apartment and 75 miles between me and M, who was on the road again.
Attention! Sweet Story Ahead!
I get home and there's a card on my kitchen table, for me, of course. Inside was a funny, sweet card that M left for me, and under the card a Dove Truffle egg with a clue. She had set me up with her very own Easter Egg Hunt, each egg attached to a clue as to where the next prize was. Not only was I finding candy - GOOD candy, chocolate and truffles, yo, none of that candy corn and jelly bean BS - but she gave me a CD that I wanted and couldn't find (Garth Brooks' "Roping The Wind," awesome) and some nice lounging pants in which I can, as you may have guessed, lounge.
Do you read me clearly?
She took time and effort to plan something out for me, from the goodness of her heart. For me. I was and still am more than a little surprised by it. I had butterflies over it. Butterflies! I'm a guy, I shouldn't get butterflies, but there they were. As far as somebody doing something sweet for me, that had to be the top. I can't explain why, other than to say I appreciate her so much that it's almost ridiculable.
And all I got her as a DVD of "Can't Buy Me Love." Yes… I'm a guy… A lucky guy, but a guy none the less.

Then last night I feel like I stuck my foot in my own ass. More on that when the Zoloft kicks in.
(sigh)
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Take Me Home