I Know I'm Not Crazy
And we thought the water in Mexico was bad, check THIS out.
Let the captions begin:
Mmm! Tastes like pollo!
"Dios Mio, hombre, this tamale tastes like caca!" "You are eating the wrong end, mijo."
Gives new meaning to "feed the homeless."
I Went To Mexico And All I Got Was a Lousy Tamale Stuffed With One of Those "CHICLE! CHICLE!" Kids
Oh schidt, that's SICK!
Take Me Home
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Read This Every Day Of Your Life
I want to be this family's dog. You will love them almost immediately. The Dooce!
What I Do
I cook for myself. I rarely use anything from a can. Sometimes I use a crockpot. I almost always use a saute pan, sharp knives, meats, and vegetables. I like cooking for myself. It's a zen thing. I like to cook for the woman society must label as my girlfriend in order to understand that we're together, but she's far away from me, most nights. That sucks knobs.
I prefer good vodka on the rocks with a twist to any other drink in the evening. Merlot's a close second. I don't sit and pound beers. I don't have to do shots of schiddy whiskey to be manly. I like what I like.
The manliest thing a man can do is not care about what people think of his preferences. Actually that's third place. In a tie for First place, in my mind, is be a person of integrity and teaching to those he loves, be they wives, children, friends, or Hooters wait-staff.
I don't shave my chest. I am 30. I am a Man. I'm an animal, a mammal. Grr.
A married friend of mine spent a weekend with his wife, about 9 hours total, shopping for knobs. I think I found two knobs already.
I work out. Not as much as I used to. I used to push iron 4 times a week. I got up to about 255lbs, where I felt like I could lift a house, but I looked like an outhouse. I hated it. I'm doing more cardio and only lifting once a week. I've been a bit chubby most of my life. I'm okay with it now, body issues aside, but I'm working on my "bikini season" look. I'm down about 20lbs since the beginning of the year, and have about 15 to go. Part of me would like to look like one of those Men's Health models. That part is my abs. Another part of me would like to look like another kind of model. You can put that together in your own heads and e-mail me as to which part and what kind of model.
I have a weekly rap session with a licensed counselor. Some folks say you have to be crazy to go. If you think you're crazy, you're not. I don’t hear voices that make me want to kill people, unless you count the chump at work who whistles and people who ask if I hear voices that make me want to kill people. If you are crazy, you would think only that everyone else is. Self-discovery is a vital journey to figuring out the patterns of your behavior, like if you are scared of being hugged, or why you get nervous about having sex on a park bench. I talk to a counselor about the things I can't tell my family and friends, usually about things caused by my family and friends.
I really do have a Psycho Ex. Manic Depression is great on the upswing. Once you hit the crest, holy Zoloft, Batman, hide the knives and cuticle scissors. Nobody does that much acid before they're 18 and then wakes up asking if Bob Dylan had dinner with us last night, then sobs when they find out he was never in the movie "The Truth About Cats & Dogs" when they're "fine." Get the H away from those people faster than you can say "Anne Heche." For real fun, ask them how they get along with their opposite-sex parent! Before doing so, gird thy loins.
As much as I care about my family and friends, I don’t care about anybody more than I care about myself. Think I am Selfish? Then you're a neurotic parent-issue freak. As long as I'm taking care of my feeding, my sleep, my money, my peace of mind, then everyone else in my world will see a happy Geofferson. If you want to see me turn into a badger, take my sleep and food from me for a few days. If you want to see me snap on a kid whining in the store, then let's go to the store! That's for sport. I'm unapologetic about being self-concerned. Sorry! Or not...
If I hear another person use the word "soulmate," I will punch Alanis Morrissette in the dick. The only people perfect for each other are twins. If you want it to work with someone, you have to make some kind of effort to let them share, too.
M, The woman in my life that society labels as "girlfriend" but means more to me than that, is really kick-ass. I've mentione her here before, but nothing too much because her personal life shouldn't be internetted. She's sweeter than she admits. I'd really rather not get into it because if I SCHIDT here she comes, play cool...
I'd be an awesome dad, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I'll probably adopt a 17 year old with a trust-fund and 3.8 GPA. Blue-eye Father is So proud of you Xiang Ziu!
Sometimes I walk through Target, make eye contact with a person, and nod to their zipper. They always look down. Surrealism: 2,943 - Them: 2 (okay, not always)
Hallmark, while handy in a pinch, is run by a secret wing of Mary Kay with proceeds going to fund PAX TV and Makeover shows.
I should have been working on a report the whole time I've been writing this, and I still feel like my priorities are straight. Anybody know how to extract time intervals in Excel from other data? I fear a pivot table is coming my way.
I can never thank the people in my life enough for their blessings, prayers, and shared hours of life. My gawd, how boring it would all be without each of you!
Rock on. Please.
Geofferson
Take Me Home
I want to be this family's dog. You will love them almost immediately. The Dooce!
What I Do
I cook for myself. I rarely use anything from a can. Sometimes I use a crockpot. I almost always use a saute pan, sharp knives, meats, and vegetables. I like cooking for myself. It's a zen thing. I like to cook for the woman society must label as my girlfriend in order to understand that we're together, but she's far away from me, most nights. That sucks knobs.
I prefer good vodka on the rocks with a twist to any other drink in the evening. Merlot's a close second. I don't sit and pound beers. I don't have to do shots of schiddy whiskey to be manly. I like what I like.
The manliest thing a man can do is not care about what people think of his preferences. Actually that's third place. In a tie for First place, in my mind, is be a person of integrity and teaching to those he loves, be they wives, children, friends, or Hooters wait-staff.
I don't shave my chest. I am 30. I am a Man. I'm an animal, a mammal. Grr.
A married friend of mine spent a weekend with his wife, about 9 hours total, shopping for knobs. I think I found two knobs already.
I work out. Not as much as I used to. I used to push iron 4 times a week. I got up to about 255lbs, where I felt like I could lift a house, but I looked like an outhouse. I hated it. I'm doing more cardio and only lifting once a week. I've been a bit chubby most of my life. I'm okay with it now, body issues aside, but I'm working on my "bikini season" look. I'm down about 20lbs since the beginning of the year, and have about 15 to go. Part of me would like to look like one of those Men's Health models. That part is my abs. Another part of me would like to look like another kind of model. You can put that together in your own heads and e-mail me as to which part and what kind of model.
I have a weekly rap session with a licensed counselor. Some folks say you have to be crazy to go. If you think you're crazy, you're not. I don’t hear voices that make me want to kill people, unless you count the chump at work who whistles and people who ask if I hear voices that make me want to kill people. If you are crazy, you would think only that everyone else is. Self-discovery is a vital journey to figuring out the patterns of your behavior, like if you are scared of being hugged, or why you get nervous about having sex on a park bench. I talk to a counselor about the things I can't tell my family and friends, usually about things caused by my family and friends.
I really do have a Psycho Ex. Manic Depression is great on the upswing. Once you hit the crest, holy Zoloft, Batman, hide the knives and cuticle scissors. Nobody does that much acid before they're 18 and then wakes up asking if Bob Dylan had dinner with us last night, then sobs when they find out he was never in the movie "The Truth About Cats & Dogs" when they're "fine." Get the H away from those people faster than you can say "Anne Heche." For real fun, ask them how they get along with their opposite-sex parent! Before doing so, gird thy loins.
As much as I care about my family and friends, I don’t care about anybody more than I care about myself. Think I am Selfish? Then you're a neurotic parent-issue freak. As long as I'm taking care of my feeding, my sleep, my money, my peace of mind, then everyone else in my world will see a happy Geofferson. If you want to see me turn into a badger, take my sleep and food from me for a few days. If you want to see me snap on a kid whining in the store, then let's go to the store! That's for sport. I'm unapologetic about being self-concerned. Sorry! Or not...
If I hear another person use the word "soulmate," I will punch Alanis Morrissette in the dick. The only people perfect for each other are twins. If you want it to work with someone, you have to make some kind of effort to let them share, too.
M, The woman in my life that society labels as "girlfriend" but means more to me than that, is really kick-ass. I've mentione her here before, but nothing too much because her personal life shouldn't be internetted. She's sweeter than she admits. I'd really rather not get into it because if I SCHIDT here she comes, play cool...
I'd be an awesome dad, no matter how much I hate to admit it. I'll probably adopt a 17 year old with a trust-fund and 3.8 GPA. Blue-eye Father is So proud of you Xiang Ziu!
Sometimes I walk through Target, make eye contact with a person, and nod to their zipper. They always look down. Surrealism: 2,943 - Them: 2 (okay, not always)
Hallmark, while handy in a pinch, is run by a secret wing of Mary Kay with proceeds going to fund PAX TV and Makeover shows.
I should have been working on a report the whole time I've been writing this, and I still feel like my priorities are straight. Anybody know how to extract time intervals in Excel from other data? I fear a pivot table is coming my way.
I can never thank the people in my life enough for their blessings, prayers, and shared hours of life. My gawd, how boring it would all be without each of you!
Rock on. Please.
Geofferson
Take Me Home
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Tuesday You Freaking Fruits
Aaaaw YEAH, I've done my first headline weekend at a club, rollicking through 45-50 minutes of material last weekend in Bellevue at the Ramada Inn Laughs Comedy Club and Lounge. It wasn't as tough as I thought it may be, as I took my time and allowed myself to be "in the moment." I knew that going up for that long would be a drain on anybody, no matter where they were in the room. So I had to go up and have fun with it, which I did. I didn't have any hecklers. The other comics there were Shoogs B. (in the house, whaddup?), The Mastermind, and Kid Dynamite.
Comedy itself seems to be eluding me lately. I've gotten past a lot of the little tricks that a lot of people use to get laughs, and I'm trying to be a lot more open on-stage. I guess it's that a lot of stories and moments I've been into the last year involve the feelings of and interactions with very real and sometimes very made-up people. Once I sit and write them in story form, with a lesson if not a punch line, I'll begin presenting them. What you see on the stage of a comedy show is usually days worth of hours worth of work. But it's a labor of love, except when nobody's laughing, where it is then a labor of making new ways to say you suck, having a few drinks, and driving home with $50 and a smudged phone # in your pocket. (Sorry I never called you, Diane... Deann... Denny... D9R#, was I getting cruised by a cyborg?)
'Twas fun. And now it's over. Thanks to the ChiliDog for the shot, the Guys for the assitance, and a great group of supporters (Melissa, Carlene, Nikki, Katie, Sharon, Mitch, George, Tim, Jeremy, Kim, Ali, Lauren (all the way from San Fran to see the show!), Dennis, Jean, Brian, Crystal, Mike, Jay, Dave, and Erik. I hope I gave you your money's worth).
Last but not least, a giant Thank You and Love You to my parents, Pam and Gerry. They showed up and surprised me, and it meant a "Lott" (see, because the family name is... yeah) to have them in the audience that night. In the front row, actually. My dad even heckled a little when I mentioned George W. God Bless them. It meant so much to have them there that night, especially when they were off to Canada early the next day. I was so happy to see them I forgot to ask them to grab me some "good" Tylenol. Love ya Mom & Dad.
(in all honesty, I blanked on including them in the Thank Yous. The Divine Miss M, who has to ask for your badge and gun, tipped me to my faux pas'rent. Uh yeah, I meant to do that... because I'm dumbtimes.)
Macros, Formulas, and Power-Drunk Devotees for God
I can't blog much this week or next as I'm working feverishly to figure out how to write a ton of macros for work. I am pulling data from a work-tracking system which holds records of all of our, pay attention... thanks..., all of the work our IT groups do here at Schmireless. Since time is money, I'm basically tracking how much it costs for us to... over here, hey, over here... are you okay? Sleepy? Need some coffee or are y'okay?... okay, so yeah we need to find out how much it costs for us to do our work, which is done quickly and cheaply now that budgets have been slashed and we've all taken a serious reduction in morale. Morale these days means "showing up mostly sober, or at least showered." Morale levels are inversely proportionate to how much you'll drink on a weeknight.
So yeah, I'm here at my desk doing all this fun stuff to keep a job I am overqualified for, spiritually and mentally, but pretty much on-target for when it comes to technical know-how. I've manipulated more numbers than Enron. I've taken out more zeros than heroin! I've found more Averages than a sorority girl at happy hour! I've drunk more cough medicine than that kid in jr. high who's parents didn't pay attention to him and he was crying out for help by drinking a lot of cough medicine!
MA-CRO.......................... PO-LO..............
If anybody knows of any really good companies that are hiring analytical minds with sardonic wit and an unshreddable moral fiber, send them my way. I have a friend who actually likes doing this schidt.
Oh, and if you want to, I'll be Here tonight doing comedy. I can't believe I missed The Swan last night to see the schidt I saw there. It was the cull bin of comedy last night, for anybody here who's ever picked apples.
Push-up contest anyone?
~Geoff
Take Me Home
Aaaaw YEAH, I've done my first headline weekend at a club, rollicking through 45-50 minutes of material last weekend in Bellevue at the Ramada Inn Laughs Comedy Club and Lounge. It wasn't as tough as I thought it may be, as I took my time and allowed myself to be "in the moment." I knew that going up for that long would be a drain on anybody, no matter where they were in the room. So I had to go up and have fun with it, which I did. I didn't have any hecklers. The other comics there were Shoogs B. (in the house, whaddup?), The Mastermind, and Kid Dynamite.
Comedy itself seems to be eluding me lately. I've gotten past a lot of the little tricks that a lot of people use to get laughs, and I'm trying to be a lot more open on-stage. I guess it's that a lot of stories and moments I've been into the last year involve the feelings of and interactions with very real and sometimes very made-up people. Once I sit and write them in story form, with a lesson if not a punch line, I'll begin presenting them. What you see on the stage of a comedy show is usually days worth of hours worth of work. But it's a labor of love, except when nobody's laughing, where it is then a labor of making new ways to say you suck, having a few drinks, and driving home with $50 and a smudged phone # in your pocket. (Sorry I never called you, Diane... Deann... Denny... D9R#, was I getting cruised by a cyborg?)
'Twas fun. And now it's over. Thanks to the ChiliDog for the shot, the Guys for the assitance, and a great group of supporters (Melissa, Carlene, Nikki, Katie, Sharon, Mitch, George, Tim, Jeremy, Kim, Ali, Lauren (all the way from San Fran to see the show!), Dennis, Jean, Brian, Crystal, Mike, Jay, Dave, and Erik. I hope I gave you your money's worth).
Last but not least, a giant Thank You and Love You to my parents, Pam and Gerry. They showed up and surprised me, and it meant a "Lott" (see, because the family name is... yeah) to have them in the audience that night. In the front row, actually. My dad even heckled a little when I mentioned George W. God Bless them. It meant so much to have them there that night, especially when they were off to Canada early the next day. I was so happy to see them I forgot to ask them to grab me some "good" Tylenol. Love ya Mom & Dad.
(in all honesty, I blanked on including them in the Thank Yous. The Divine Miss M, who has to ask for your badge and gun, tipped me to my faux pas'rent. Uh yeah, I meant to do that... because I'm dumbtimes.)
Macros, Formulas, and Power-Drunk Devotees for God
I can't blog much this week or next as I'm working feverishly to figure out how to write a ton of macros for work. I am pulling data from a work-tracking system which holds records of all of our, pay attention... thanks..., all of the work our IT groups do here at Schmireless. Since time is money, I'm basically tracking how much it costs for us to... over here, hey, over here... are you okay? Sleepy? Need some coffee or are y'okay?... okay, so yeah we need to find out how much it costs for us to do our work, which is done quickly and cheaply now that budgets have been slashed and we've all taken a serious reduction in morale. Morale these days means "showing up mostly sober, or at least showered." Morale levels are inversely proportionate to how much you'll drink on a weeknight.
So yeah, I'm here at my desk doing all this fun stuff to keep a job I am overqualified for, spiritually and mentally, but pretty much on-target for when it comes to technical know-how. I've manipulated more numbers than Enron. I've taken out more zeros than heroin! I've found more Averages than a sorority girl at happy hour! I've drunk more cough medicine than that kid in jr. high who's parents didn't pay attention to him and he was crying out for help by drinking a lot of cough medicine!
MA-CRO.......................... PO-LO..............
If anybody knows of any really good companies that are hiring analytical minds with sardonic wit and an unshreddable moral fiber, send them my way. I have a friend who actually likes doing this schidt.
Oh, and if you want to, I'll be Here tonight doing comedy. I can't believe I missed The Swan last night to see the schidt I saw there. It was the cull bin of comedy last night, for anybody here who's ever picked apples.
Push-up contest anyone?
~Geoff
Take Me Home
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