Moving On Up, We Hope

Moving.
Nobody likes doing it. But sometimes, you have to move. You've outgrown the place. You've outlived the place. Your energies stagnate. The bloodstains won't come off the ceiling. And that spot in the living room? PER-MAN-ENT.

We're moving. To Los Angeles, CA. The area around it, not LA-proper. And there just aren't enough hours in these days to go into the whole philosophy of why. Other than that's where I believe many of my dreams will blossom into their next form.

Seattle, my home. A fantastic place to start a career, build an act. But not the place to sustain a career in comedy, unless one is doing cruise ships. I'm not. So I have to go. Seattle comedy has been good to me, and I hope I have, in turn, been at least gentle to it. I only feel like I have hit a consistent stride in the past year or so. Which makes me laugh when I see guys who've been getting on stages for nearly 8 months...
IN A ROW...
"headline" a show. I'm really learning again how to Feature really well, about pace and letting the space between jokes run their own cadence. Let the crowd dictate what I'd like them to. And I have a LOT to learn.

So I don't know that LA will teach me much. I think guys like David Crowe, Brad Upton, Kermet Apio, Joe Vespaziani, and Duane Goad have taught me more than 90% of the guys in LA will. Ron Reid's been nothing but the sherpa I never knew I would need. And I will heed his advice always.
Brousseau teaches me constantly.
What not to wear.
Nor eat.
But he's a helluva man...

Anyway, there'll be more to this soon. For now, it's late, and we're tired, and I'm blogging away so loudly that my wife has closed the door to the Fortress Of Creativity!

Here's what I know, so far:

1. My niece Riley is incredible. I "get it," the baby-having thing.
2. I have work to do on my career as a comedian and writer. And unless thrust into the game, I'll never get to properly play it.
3. Hustle + Talent = Success. If I have a Talent score of 7, I should only need 3 on the Hustle to get my 10 and win Success. But I will need at least a 7 for Hustle in the Beast. Got it.
   
4. I could never do what we're about to go do alone. Some comics mention personal life as a weight holding them down. Instead, my marriage is the cornerstone of the Empire we want to build. I cannot ever thank my wife enough. If you're reading this, I love you. Sorry about the "clown incident" at ROSS.
5. This is irrational, non-sensical, incomprehensible, and dumb. To uproot, rent out, become renters, pay more for rent, leave good-paying jobs, leave friends and family and fair traffic. INSANE.
6. This makes total sense, and without going for it, it will never come to me. I would only end up bitter and guessing. And I'm halfway there now.
   
7. No dream of making one's passion their career will happen without sacrifice, effort, determination, positive thoughts, and luck.
   
8. Fear is a feeling that failure is a possibility, and embarrassment awaits a failure's by-product. Guess what? I'm not scared. I'm excited. I'm angry. I'm motivated.
   
9. I'm a little scared.
10. I have to get more sleep.

What do I know, really? I'm just a guy with a dream of not sitting in a cubicle every day until I decide to retire in a hail of "F*CK Y'ALL" and "EAT SH*T" and "GUESS WHO'S BEEN POOPING IN THE COFFEE MAKER?"

I have a dream of letting my gifts provide me a long, healthy, happy, prosperous career.
Gotta go. Got a dream.


Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

"Sex And The City," Because Women Aren't Portrayed As Confused Whores Nearly Often Enough

Yeah, I wrote the title of this blog with "Whore" in it.

As a man, I have been had SATC (short for "Sex And The City") rammed into my visual cortex as often as necessary to get laid. I have seen probably 10 episodes. I have found the writing to be pretty good. The acting, on a scale of 2-5, with 10 being "Good," ranks regularly near the 3's.

But this movie will go nuts all weekend as women get bombed at Happy Hour and plan a girl's night out to go see it. Then spend $10 to sit and laugh out loud about the glamour of women concerned only with sex, fashion, drinking, and sex fashion while drinking.

Because, really, isn't that what takes up all of our minds?

YES, frankly. When these things are in order, the rest of life is much more manageable. I recently purchased a pair of jeans that made my butt look not only sculpted, but like somebody else's. I "get it," when it comes to fashion.

Saying "I don't care" when it comes to one's looks is like saying, when it comes to running water, electricity, and Geoff Lott, you "could take it or leave it, meh." Then you'd shrug your hairy shoulders and drop your poops into a hand-dug hole before cooking your trapped marmot over a campfire. It's 2008; Look the part, Evolved Human.

Anyway, yeah, the SATC movie will undoubtedly be a waste of a man's time. LUCKILY, this weekend, all weekend, there are Hockey finals, NBA playoffs, golf, car racing, and CAGE FIGHTING!!!
www.EliteXC.com has a great card on CBS Saturday night, 9pm. Featured fights include the main event between Kimbo Slice, a YouTube phenom who was known best for beating guys up at BBQs in Florida, and James "Colossus" Thompson, a 6'4" 265-lb monstrosity who once got knocked out in 14 seconds. Also, American Gladiatress Gina Carano will take on Kaitlin Young in the first ever highly televised Women's bouth. Proving that not only can women train as hard as men, punch and kick and grapple like men, but they have to be good looking to get on TV.

www.WEC.TV has a decent card, headlined by Mixed Martial Arts' premiere Featherweights (145lb-ers) Urijah Faber (20-1, champ, 12 fight win-streak) and Jens Pulver (22-8-1, challenger, former world champ). I'm rooting for Jens, because we went to High School together and I want to see him continue his great career. Also, I hate Faber's butt-cleft-chin. So hey, there's plenty of entertainment for the fellas this weekend.

In the meantime, SATC will be raking in money from women all over the continent. The guilty pleasure of it all, sure thing, knock yerself out. But when it comes to visions of women being strong, independent, and sexy, can't we do it the old-fashioned way, in a chained prison cage match, shirts torn and all kinds of heaving?

SATC, no thanks. I'll wait for the rental to come out and ignore it then, too.
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Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

Humor, The Sixth Sense

Humor, like Style, but not Substance, is a Trait one has. Perhaps like an odor, if one were to ask my lovely wife, who announces her entrance to most rooms with "It stinks in here, Geoffrey."

I feel that people are Funny the way some are Tall. Born to have a certain amount of it the world will experience, you don't really know how Funny somebody is until you get in a situation with them where it comes out. Like Height, Humor is best experienced when somebody's reaching for something, like a rebound or the sombrero-shaped chip/salsa bowl. You can't tell how huge Shaquille O'Neal is until you're standing next to his dong at the urinal. And you can't tell how funny a person is unless you actually have a gauge of "Funny vs. Not Funny."

So here's where I am going with this:

Today, I was on a conference call with a number of people who I think have a pretty good sense of humor. They would "get," if not really "adore," Mitch Hedberg.

"Rice is great, especially if you're hungry, and want 2,000 of something."

"I have an intense dislike of protests, but I don't know how to show it."

So I'm on the call, and I do a little Roll Call to make sure that I know who's all there. At the end of the list (we have an application that shows everyone who's dialed in, so I read the names of everyone whom I could see had dialed in), I said...


"Okay, I think I got everyone."


Met with silence.




THEN, I say, "Please announce yourself if you're not here."
Met with about a 3-Mississippi of silence...
Then...

"Uh, yeah, they can't say they're not here if they're not here."


... huh... ya don't say... well then...


And thus ends another experiment of injecting humor into the workplace. I fully expect that little exchange to end up in a Reader's Digest. If I put myself in the role of the guy leading the call, I'll look like an ass for explaining that Yep, not being there precludes one from being able to speak in their absence. But if I say somebody else did it, I could be $400 richer.


When at a coffee stand/shack/establishment, asking for "room" with your drink means they don't fill it all the way so that you can post-load it with as much Splenda as your spleen can turn into bloody bits of... okay, sorry... It's the space at the top. "Room For Cream," a great name for a dairy, btw.

I once asked a barista, "You guys ever run out of room for people's drinks, when somebody asks for it?" That got quite the hearty tilt of the head and a twitched eyebrow in the vein of "Don't hit on me, fatty."


The kid behind her laughed his ass off. Barista only said "Like, on the counter where we put them?" The kid behind her explained, "No, like the space at the top of the drinks."


By then the joke, like my hope of ever being as widely accepted as Dane Cook, slid off the counter, to the floor, and underneath some fart-stain's Vans.

So there ya go.
We don't all laugh at the same things all the time, but the Funny is always happening. You may just be too short, or tall, to see it.

Last example...

Why is the guy on the left wearing a watch?
Where does he have to be? Ear doctor? Elephant try-outs? This is why you have to start eating Organic, folks.

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Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad

Seattle to LA to Seattle to Vancouver, BC to Happiness

In the last 2 days, or 48 hours for the stat freaks, I put myself through the following:
1,277 miles.
3 airplanes.
1 hair-gelled clown-ass "Business Guy."
14 minutes of comedy.
10 of my favorite comics, and now "people," in 100 square feet of minglin' space.
2 totally different atmospheres.
1 lesson to be sussed out and absorbed later.

How and where you ask?

With the magic of mirrors.
And behind the refrigerator, I answer. These are, of course, answers to questions you will ask me in the future, but I've already answered them to save time.

So let's talk about my trip. And it wasn't travel, it was a trip.

Tuesday morning I flew to Los Angeles to take part in the California Comedy Festival. I was invited to perform at the Hollywood Improv along with 11 other comics, part of a "contest" format for the audience and some judges to vote for and advance their favorites.

I took unpaid time off of work to go do this. Because it's the Improv, that's why. Because I needed to do it, that's why. And there was the hoping hint of "industry" being in the house, like agents and managers and players. There were managers. Of retail. There were players. Of the "drugged girlfriend" kind. There were agents. On the phone from afar, a great guy I had already made contact with a while back who couldn't make it. And another big-namer in the comedy world who left prior to my show. But hey, it happens.

Not complaining at all, because this was a shot to go showcase in LA for SOMEBODY, I hoped. There were some great performers there, but I think some of us, perhaps THIS GUY (thumbs pointed at me), missed an email or an idea. I was chosen for the "Comedy From The Edge" group, the Light Blue gang who can pretty much let it all hang out, but still not get ridiculous or raunchy for the sake of raunch. Bottom line, I was surprised at how tame some of the other sets were in my group. Tame, lame, or boring, you pick it, but I had hoped somebody would knock a sock loose. FFFFRZZT, nothin'.

Oddly enough, I had chosen to do ONLY material that I have proven through research and DOING IT ON STAGE to have a reputation as FUNNY AS SH*T. At the Improv on Melrose. So I was ready to strap it up and lower a shoulder, deliver a set that would at LEAST get me a free friggin' JagerBomb.

I think I got laughs on 70% of the material, 40% of THAT did very well, and 10% of the Very Well was EXCELLENT. The other stuff, and I'll have to watch the tape to confirm, was either totally F'ed up by me (I inexcusably flubbed one line in a very comfortable bit, my fault), or spoken in such a way as to alienate the audience. It may have been where I said "You guys make sure you only eat healthy, organic bullets, you f*cking RO-TARDS." That was only in my head, of course.

I also blame the crowd for some of it. Front table had a few ladies who were among the top 2% of Gorgeous, and one woman who was a professional killer of fun times. I felt empathetic for her, being dragged far from home to sit in a room where people were trying to entertain a room full of people OTHER than her, and maybe that annoyed her and her bad hair and caused her to sit... FRONT ROW... with arms folded. For 95% of the show. The rest of the room, I could see them laughing, but not really hear them.

But I performed decently, I'd score myself a B- at best, and I was chosen to move on to the next round. That's NEXT week all over the LA and Orange Counties!

SUMMARY: I performed at the Improv on my own money, time, and hustle. Were it not for my lovely wife getting my ass to get my press kit to UPS on time, I wouldn't have made the trip down. Totally worth it. Met some really great comics and people, and probably pissed them off by not mentioning their names and how great they were and how they've never made a bad sandwich. But really, why would I say nice things about Kara Walden, Mark Serritella, Rick Kunkler, Rick Younger, and Dave Becky when you already know they are lovely? Yes, I said Rick Kunkler.

Got to chat with Marc Maron, one of my all-time faves, and with Tracy Tuffs, another one of my all-time faves as a comic and person. He'll be all over Seattle in the next week, so go see him! He's awesome.

Flew back to Seattle the next morning after about 45min to 1hour of sleep. It just wasn't takin' hold, I was too wired from the show.
At the airport, new issue. Got in line for the mad rush, about 50th of 75. Light load = STRETCH OUT TIME! SLEEPY TIME TO OAKLAND!
I get to the gate and mistakenly hand the agent my boarding pass for Oakland, not LAX, as I had a layover in Oaktown. So I step to the side for 3 seconds, or about 2 more passengers to go by so that I... and this is very important...
DON'T HOLD THE F*CK UP THE F*CKING LINE AND LIVES OF OTHER PEOPLE.

Crazy, I know. I step back in line, having already paid my dues by waiting in the right spot for 45 minutes, and begin to hand the agent the correct boarding pass when I hear a voice behind me say - in a voice best described as "this guy is aaaaall business, me, I get things done..." - he says just loud enough that I MIGHT hear him;
"What's wrong with THIS line?"

I think a second, and decide that it's too much energy to deal with that guy.
But I'm also too tired to let go of shit slung from a guy who slings but rarely takes, judging from the gel in his hair. So I say, calmly...
"Oh, I was in line ahead of you for an hour, I just grabbed my layover pass, had to grab the right one. I'm hope there are still seats."
That sounds harsher than it came out, and I'm sorry. It should have had at least one "c*cksucker" it. But somebody had to learn a lesson, and by the grace of God, it wasn't gonna be me.
When's the last time he decided to go rhetorical on a stranger, and the stranger called him on it? Last I saw of him, he was personifying "khaki" while grabbing his briefcase.

I got about an hour of sleep on the plane I got back into Seattle around 1pm on Wednesday, and had to act like I was awake enough to drive alone to Canada. I always sleep well in the car, so I was looking forward to the drive North for my show at the...

VANCOUVER COMEDY FESTIVAL!
If you don't believe me, look HERE.
Holy CRAP my bio is lame.

I'll skip the antics and give you these details, because if I don't go to bed soon I'm pretty sure I'll forget how to sleep.

I got off the elevator in the Georgian Court Hotel, a twill and velvet embrace of a hotel on Beatty in the 'Couve. First person I see is David Cross. Yes, THAT David Cross.
David.
F*cking.
Cross.
#8 in my Top 10 Comics I Don't Know But are Awesome. Amazingly cool guy, just funny and cool the way one would hope somebody you admire would be. But cooler. And funnier. Got to watch him perform.

I performed at Yuk Yuk's in Vancouver. GREAT Club, and you should visit them when you get to Vancouver, BC. Matthew is a fantastic manager, the staff and crew were great, and I'm angling to get back in there for a weekend soooon.

Performed with Pilcher, Barth, and Brousseau. Loved every second of it. Somebody threw in a side of Sigurdson, Clark, and Dixon. It was spoiling. Two-hand-shovel that into my face anytime you wanna. They should all get more publicity and heat, these are some funny-ass people. Sorry if I forgot your names, Toby and Foxx. I was hanging out too awesomely to watch your whole set(s).

Duane Goad continues to impress me as a comedian and funny guy and cool dude to hang out with. But as a man who dresses himself, um... yeah, we get it. You're "professional."

Went to another show and as I'm milling about the balcony, DAVID CROSS comes out to perform. Watched it, loved it. Satire gets almost no better than David Cross.

So it can't get better, I get ready to get outta there and PAUL F. TOMPKINS comes out to perform. I have never seen him live, and HOLY CRAP, amazing. That guy just OWNS it, waaaaaay too funny.
Had Goad almost on the floor, and Goad only laughs at Tracy Tuffs and when I eat it.




Getting ready to leave then, tired, over it and HOLY CRAP you are NOT going to bring Marc Maron out to perform. Yes you are. So THAT's why Maron left the Improv so early the night before. Again, humbling and real and worth missing sleep for.

Saw THIS GUY's ass. Don't worry, it wasn't anything weird. It was all normal, in the street like usual. Very hetero.

Back to the hotel, we go to the "Lounge Party" for a drink. A. Drink. One. Too tired to deal with it, ya know? 4 hours of sleep, including what I got in the car on the drive up.




Well that idea lasts about 15min when Cross, Todd Glass, Tompkins and some other people I mentioned all come in, post-show-we-were-at. There is NOTHING more fun than post-show hanging with comedians. You will never laugh harder if you're in the right mood. This was the right mood.

I went to bed about 1:30, slept about 2 hours total, got up at 5:30 and headed back to my day-job.

SUMMARY!
I missed my wife a lot on this trip. I am sure I married the right woman.
I met and hung out with some of my favorite comedians.
I performed at two of the biggest clubs in North America.
I performed with some of my best comedy friends.
In 24 hours, I went from feeling like a Road Dog to the opening act of a really popular comic.
I loved every second of it.
I cannot wait to sleep in my own bed tonight.
I am thankful, happy, blessed, and lucky to be doing what I love to do.

I cannot thank these people enough, so please support them and their endeavors:
Dave and Angela for hosting the showcase that got me to Vancouver at the best club to come along in a long time;
Laura and Will at Destination Funny for their work in getting us Americans into BC for the festival, and organizing a GREAT week of comedy;
Everyone at Destination Funny for organizing a festival dedicated to MAKING PEOPLE LAUGH. I metaphysically have loved you all;
Canadian Government and Citizens for having a budget spent on the Arts each year, allowing us to stay in a PHATAZZ hotel - The Georgian Court - and entertain you lovelies;

TK and Will at the Cali Comedy Festival for their efforts to pull it all off, I hope it swings big for you guys!;

and last but not least...

You, family and friends and readers and fans of me and of comedy and of my comedy, for your support and teasing and being yourselves and taking time to be at shows or read this or say "yo." If it weren't for you, I'd perform to empty rooms, and love it not nearly as much as when you laugh. Your laughter makes me happy.

I quit.

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Take Me Home

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