Football Seasoning

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My Blog About My Dad


MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Battle Of The Blands

Revelation last week. While watching a comedian I really like and respect perform a very similar bit to one of mine, my lap felt cold. My joke-boner fell. Frankly, it's true that I have re-hashed too much work within my comedy. It's been too long since I introduced anything truly new, a chunk or a bit or a longer-form run of humor. It's important that I write what I think is funny, but lately all that comes out are lamentations.

About the state of this country (catatonic stupor/corn syrup insulin-crashing).

About religion and those who adhere to it as a lifestyle instead of a guiding light. Loving The Lord is a different expression than Paranoia.

About childless couples throwing shit-looks when my gorgeous and well-behaved son and wife and I sit down near them in a restaurant. Leave, fucko. Eat at the bar.

I'm a happy man and a fed-up American and a bored comedian. That has to amount to something. I'm not boo-hooing the passion I have found in Stand-up Comedy. My reverence for Sahl, Martin, Pryor, Cosby, Hicks, et al fuels much of my desire to accept gigs. My ego thinks I have something to say. So I'm probably just putting too much pressure on myself to make something count for eeeeeverybody sitting in the room at a comedy show. Instead, I need to go back to the drawing board, and draw the shapes of letters that become words and from there, jokes.

I need to do what I think is Funny, that's the trick. Like any work, it's important to do what YOU think is Good Work. Otherwise you're wasting your time and the time of the person paying you to check Facebook just reeeeeal quick. Comedy is a privilege and a passion to be part of. I'm lucky. Sadly, I've also been lazy. Time to turn that around and put it on its knees and tell it to say my name.

Take Me Home
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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Blog Daddy

I've had a number of people tell me recently that I need to dive headlong into the world of "Dad Bloggers," elbowing my way in and throwing-down what I know with how I write. I'm debating it, somewhat 'FOR' the notion of doing so. While I hesitate to dive in, having only been a dad for a year and a month now, I am also wholeheartedly devoted to Dad Life. Prior to that I started my foray into Husband Life. As I've learned that "My Life Is Best Not Lived For ME" I still believe that solitude has many benefits to the human condition/migraine. I love my wife and my son more than I can ever explain without decimating a threatening horde of illegal immigrants or whatever is evil right now. Truth is, however, I am still learning what it is to be a Dad to a son, to a walkaboutz-talkaboutz Toddler guy, and how to be a Husband to a Wife and Mother. Every day, something new. I mess up, frequently, verbally, and sometimes, gastrointestinally.

I am far from perfect, and perhaps perfect from far. But when it comes down to it, I read a few other Dad Blogs and get that deep-rooted feeling that a few of these guys are pandering to the Oprah-watchers who went to college to end up with their "Mrs." degrees. I honestly feel like many of them are just "cute"ing it up on their ad-bannered blog. If I do DadBlog, you can bet my sponsors won't be Alberto-VO5 and the Venus Razor. Probably be some sort of banned fat-burner and a prostate massager.

Being A Man isn't easy. I don't mean the biological travel with testicles and what is, technically, a penis. I am not talking about being the not-Woman in the relationship. I'm talking about Strength, Courage, Heart, Integrity, and Leadership, combined with Love, Tenderness, Intellect, and The Ability To Love-Make upwards of 16 consecutive minutes. The more I study and read and discuss the role of the Man in His Own World, the more I realize we're just people with expectations thrust upon us by society and Tyler Perry movies. How we respond to our own expectations and our own impulses and Life, now, that is totally up to us as Men. Being a Man is NOT a "role" to play, such as Dad or Husband or AdultBaby. It is the overall Being Man, who happens to be... Father, Husband, Worker, Comedian, Philosoraptor, Student of Life, and the like... which intrigues me.

So that's my quest for the moment. To DadBlog, or Not To DadBlog?
Any thoughts?

Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad


MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

A Trip Around The Son

My son turned over the One on his Anno-meter a couple weeks ago. It has been a bittersweet week or two, as we get into the YEARS and no longer the months of his age. He was a “baby” for so long. Now a Toddler, he’s been hinting at his need for fewer naps, more food, walking around, and a studio apartment. The past year has, at times, flown by. Other times it was a moment-to-moment grind due to a lack of sleep, not sleeping, bad weather, sleeplessness, and not knowing what to do with a tired baby and wife. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Being a dad has made me reassess everything I thought I knew about Life, Love, and Sacrifice. I don’t think that what we’re doing is “special” nor “immaculate.” A lot of folks are doing this by the seat of their sweatpants, or not doing a damn thing. We are doing our damndest to raise a good kid in a loving environment while he poops his pants, learns to talk and read, and teaches us how to take care of him. I love my son, he’s very special to me and to a lot of relatives and friends, and as far as I’m concerned it’s my duty to teach him all I can about integrity, sleeping, and football. And whatever I know about women I’ll bring up in the form of allegories of “some friend” who “slept around” and got “the fire water” in his “weenis.”

The hardest part of the past year is finding out what we don’t know. There’s been a lot of that. And to get advice from people who either are NOT parents, or from parents with kids who have the personality of an un-oiled chainsaw can be very trying on the tired parent’s ability to not headbutt them. I’m grateful for the help we’ve had from our family and friends. We couldn’t have done it this sober without them. It’s tiring, it’s work, it’s a different kind of fun. It feels like the only thing I’ve ever done that actually matters. I see parents who appear to have quit on their duties, which isn’t fair to their kid, their neighborhood, nor the rest of us. If you don’t care a little about what others may think, you are a sociopath and should be sewn shut.

Here’s something that nobody tells you about a kid who starts walking. When a baby is crawling around you can hear them on the floor, slapping and sliding and gurgling. When a baby starts to walking, they will concentrate on their path and become silent. In doing so they enter a room, silently, and will show up behind you, scaring the bejeezus out of you. Awesome.

So as we continue to learn, our boy keeps growing along with us. The TV says he can read, but we’ll have to see if that works. I may just make the cards myself and find out that he can read blitz coverages, tort law, and cat-trapping schematics. Plus, I’ve noticed a glaring lack of toys in the “Professional Occupations” fields. Lots of tractors and tool benches and Li’l Arc-Welder! kits. Not many Lawyer’s Desks or Dentist Chairs or Li’l Protractors! Why pull sparkplugs for 40 years when you can be a celebrity rehabilitation doctor for a decade or two before a prescription scandal hits?

He slept through the night last night. He’s teething. He’s growing. It’s another part of Life, and though it’s not for everyone, I’m all-in, grateful for the chance to Dad it up with a healthy, happy Dootz.




Take Me Home
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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

The Super Beyond

The painful illness of my friend's father has cut-loose enough of an emotional oil-slick in me to devote some time to a Life piece. My blast on Justin Bieber's ridiculable haircut shall wait for another day.

Having lost my dad in November of 2008, and later becoming a father, I have a much greater appreciation for life, babies, mommies, and the duties of parenting. I see how much influence I may have on my son some day. And how difficult it can be to live with integrity and coolheadedness when you haven't slept much and can play 183 arrangements of "Old MacDonald" on a 1-octave plastic piano. And this is WITH technological advancements as outlets of frustration and socializing.

As I'm wont to do, time to time, I pray to God about my life. Usually I am thanking Him for keeping me alive after a litany of moves equivalent to Justin Bieber's haircut (it seemed cool at the time, but then we went on two wheels, and the gas can tipped over, and my cigarette...). Seriously close calls in my life that would have given my parents synchronized cardiac arrest had they known about it. And for some reason I am here with a beautiful wife, wonderful baby guy, awesome friends, and a bright future in a number of careers. And I have to Thank God for a lot of it.

Some people love to jump off their Agnosticar or Atheistar Van long enough to bash and/or ridicule my choice of spiritual pursuit. I pray for them, too. I don't point a finger back and tell them they're wrong for believing - or not believing - the way they do. I accept them as people, and move on. But all the same, I don't condone nor defend the Crusades, the Catholic Priest scandals, nor any other atrocity committed by a person wrapping themselves in the gossamer layers of Christianity, Religion, Islam, or Professional Wrestling. Every group's got their shit-heads.

And for every shit-head there are 1,000 fantastic people. And knowing that everybody, great and not-so, good and bad, weird and conformist, will all biologically die some day just makes me realize that our relationships to one another are the MOST IMPORTANT thing we can have in life. Especially if they are good, healthy, self-actualizing, loving, and mutually beneficial. We don't have to be close to step on toes. And we don't have to step on toes just because we're close. And I only ever wear close-toe shoes.

So if you're gonna live a long time, have some stories to tell when you get there. If you're not gonna live a long time, give everyone else a story about how you went out big. But for the sake of dead rockstars, don't just muddle about doing squat in hopes you'll just make it to 90 with a full tread on your tires. Nobody wants to hear about how you never swam the rapids or farted in your hand to smother your friend's face when camping. Especially God. No time for it.

Go live. Do one thing today that scares you or somebody else.

Justin Bieber's hair is really stupid, though. I'm happy my dad isn't alive to see it. And if I'm a "hater," I include Bieberfolliclegate among my other instances of "hating," including "Dane Cook's Act," "Fans of Insane Clown Posse," "Guys Who Make That KissyFace To The Camera," and "Misquoting PseudoJournalists Obsessed With MurderCases."

Take Me Home
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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT, NPO

Bookin'

Los Angeles is still the hub of entertainmental living. You can't not do something once you leave the 1-Bedroom you pay too much to sleep and shower in thrice a week. After last night's foray to 3Clubs for the Montreal showcase (went First, great set, Seattle hang-out), I spent today back in Culver City working on The Book and talking with a few people who I respect greatly, and not just for their fantastic hairlines.

So as I ponder re-writing The Book to encompass a few other lessons about corporate management and survival, I came across the "Self Hurt" series at a kitsch store in Westwood. Their titles include "How To Get Fat," "How to Procrastinate," and a great tome titled "How To Traumatize Your Children." (I'm thinking "clown posters," but I'm old-fashioned). So that may be the way to go. From there I had to get to a show that did not go well... let me explain...

I was "supposed to" go up at this show, but didn't. The guy "running the room" was basically bumping me, allowing his friends to go long while he waited for people he already knew to show up. In other words, he was working on the idea that what MAY happen was better than what WOULD happen for sure. I think this is what THE SECRET was based upon. I have very little Ego. But I do have Pride. And a career of making people laugh of which I am rather proud. So, meh, I shrugged and left. I'm not waiting until 11:45. There's a difference between Passion and The Need for Validation. My bit about Assisted Suicide will have to wait, though it would have been very fitting in that situation.

It reminded me of every reason that LA is a terrible environment, at times, to do comedy in. At least at that show, which I have only ever seen go well ONCE. Another reason to love and appreciate the Seattle comedy scene.

I'm out. Good night.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

On The Language of Parenting

An outbound trip's preparation, as the parent of an infant, is very close to a conversation between two people in the throes of hallucinogenic bliss.

Examples? I have a...

"We can't leave yet, I can't find Blue Bear."

"It should be in the bucket, where's the baby?"

"In the bucket, Blue Bear is nowhere. I have Flat

Dog and Power Rattle."

"What about SqueakyMoose?"

"He's on the hook, he never leaves."

"Well get RedStar Munch and we'll just skip Blue

Bear."

"Blue Bear always goes."

"He won't know, he'll be asleep in the bucket before we get to the donut."

"If he freaks you gotta get him RedStar or FlatDog, he can't go Avatar like last time."

"Duh. Go warm up the Swagger, and take the bucket. We gotta get to MeMe's."

Such is my blessed, shiny life.

=======================

Take Me Home

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Tiger Buy The Tale

Eldrick "Tiger" Woods today did a fantastic job today of reading a prepared statement that included words one would use when apologizing for throwing his famous, multi-ethnic, Stanford-educated, highly-endorsed penois into a number of women. Some of these women, including porn actress Joselyn "Manhole" James, and Jamie Jungers, whose claim to fame is being the least-attractive woman on the planet to know what Tiger's wood looks like when teeing off, were jammed in front of cameras for their reaction in the event the rest of the world's problems had all been solved. Riveting words always spill from the mouths of women named Jamie.

I single those two out in particular because they had quite a reaction in the wake of Tiger's televised speech that was not at all a heartfelt, in-the-moment apology. They said they were "hurt" by not being included in Tiger's apology. The cited that he was apologizing to children and the public and some media figures and his product sponsors and his family, but NOT to the women involved in this scandal.

(The Associated Press)

Whores, please pay attention. Man-whores, too...

1) Tiger Woods had sex with up-to but not stopping-at 19 women (at last rumored count) who were NOT his wife. He is guilty of being a bad husband. Other than that, you can label him a cad, a fornicator, a scamp, a crazed f*ck diesel, and/or a nerd, but his actions only truly affect His Family in a long-term kind of way.

2) Unless they had absolutely zero access to any type of media for the past decade, every woman who was NOT the wife of Tiger Woods and yet had sex with him anyway... HAD SEX WITH A MAN THEY KNEW WAS MARRIED. Putting the blame entirely on him, as if to say he was the only person at fault in the co-mingling of any number of boozy lubes and WD-40 (not an endorsement) is erroneous and as irresponsible as having sex with a married man who is having sex outside of marriage. Or outside.

1+2 = 3 ways to say this...

1) Tiger Woods owes anybody he's not related to or had no time invested in a relationship or friendship with NOTHING. It's a Good thing to apologize to the young people who looked up to him, and perhaps he'll be able to address this in an organic way in the future. But yeah, I don't care what Tiger Woods does once he leaves the course. As long as he isn't driving drunk or kid-touching or rooting for Washington State University.
2) Tiger Woods owes the women he had sex with NOTHING. Not one cent. Not one apology. Maybe a call to say he can't hang out in Lauderdale this weekend, but otherwise, NOTHING.
3) Tiger Woods is sorry this went public.

I feel bad for his kids who may get teased at school about this.
I feel bad for his wife and the judgment a gutter-heart public may lay upon her household.
I feel bad for his mother, who apparently missed a few moments of "respect" lessons.
I feel bad for Tiger Woods that all his fellow pro golfers threw him under the bus when I'm sure a ton of them "putt from the rough" on the regular.

Lord knows I've been a turd in my life, skidding through a few relationships without a clean break to flush-off at. And I'm lacking when it comes to being the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most-communicative husband in the world. But when it comes down to it, while I don't condone nor comply with what Tiger did, nor why he did it (compulsion, addiction, adrenaline), I can't see why anybody else would really care about this.

He had affairs outside of marriage. It's going to cost him millions of dollars. He'll have millions more to rest upon. He will play golf professionally and continue to win millions of doll-hairs. And he has a hell of a way to go to patch things up with his wife and kids and family.

Imagine how much better he'll be when he's not skank-banging every weekend. Rested, focused, sober...
Way to go, media. PGA, he's gonna F you so hard.
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