Tag Archives: Colin Quinn

Goin’ Back To Brooklyn, Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That

27 Jun

Ess-a-Bagel. Last stop on Tour de Fat.

So…our last real day in New York had come. Kim had made reservations for us to go to the World Trade Center Memorial in the morning. Nothing like a super depressing American tragedy to get your day going.  Before all that fun, we went to grab some “real New York bagels” at Ess-a-Bagel. Johnny had told us that “real” New Yorkers don’t toast their bagels. Kim and I both thought that was the stupidest thing we’d ever heard. Toasting a bagel is just about the best thing you can do to it!

There was a crap ton of different cream cheeses and bagel flavors to choose from. Kim had some difficulty making her order and the guy behind the counter asked her sister (me…!) what I wanted. He was pleasantly surprised by my brief, precise order. Salt bagel, toasted with cheddar cheese cream cheese. Holy sweet Moses. All that salt and cheese was like french kissing God.

The irony of our cab driver bumping Middle Eastern music while taking us to Ground Zero was not lost on me. There wasn’t a long line to get into the memorial. People were very respectful there but there was one thing I didn’t understand. Obviously, this is a tourist place, so people were taking photos. What I didn’t get was, why were people smiling and taking photos next to names on edge of the fountain? Are they happy to be next to a place where hundreds of people died? It was just a little off putting to me.

Thankfully, the museum was closed for refurbishment. I don’t think I could handle anymore sad stuff. We grabbed a cab to take us to the Brooklyn Bridge. We were tourists and the driver knew that but he was so put off that we wanted to go to the Brooklyn Bridge because, he said, “it’s right there.” Shut it, dude!  We don’t know how to get to “there.” Plus, we’re giving you money, just drive!

“I’m goin’ back to Brooklyn…”

Since we’d walked all over the damn city and made it up to the Bronx, we figured, why not walk over to Brooklyn. It was only about a mile walk, which was nothing to us at this point. When we had started out earlier that morning it was overcast, now it was sunny. Not even half way across the bridge I touched my chest and KNEW I was going to be sunburned. Kim couldn’t believe I knew it before I even looked burnt. 27 years of living in a pale, pale, shell…you just know.

It was a pretty quick walk. There were plenty of tourist and a bunch of school kids. The only annoying thing about the bridge is that there are two lanes, one for bikes, the other for pedestrians. The pedestrians have to use one lane for coming and going traffic. Not a great idea.

“Man, I don’t think so.”

Brooklyn seemed nice, but we didn’t stay long enough to find out. I was just happy to get my photos to pay homage to Colin Quinn’s music video, “Goin’ Back to Brooklyn.”

Kim’s feet were killing her, so we sat in a nice little park while she slapped some bandages on her toes. For some reason, there was a gigantic, inflatible ketchup bottle at the park. And we all know the deep love I have for that condiment.

The amount of ketchup I use on an order of fries.

I also witnessed my first bum fight. Two guys were fighting over a cane and one dude looked like he was losing because there was a LOT of blood, which kind of looked like ketchup, coming out of his head due to the other guy beating the crap out of him with said cane.

Our next stop was The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I could have spent all day here…Kim was probably OK with the time we ended up logging. There was so much artwork there that it seems like who ever was in charge of all of it said screw it and made one gigantic room full of all kinds of art. This room reminded me of a very organized Tuesday Mornings, but it had the BEST art in it. Well, best art in the sense that it was some weird, kooky stuff.  Here are examples of some goodies…

The Pilgrims were neither attractive, nor were they very good artists.

How long did this guy have to pose like that for this carving? Or is it an actual guy back there…like the episode of Lucy when she pretends to be a bust?

All the things your Grandma left you in her will…that you never wanted.

“Buzz, your girlfriend. Woof!” Portrait of Mrs. Gabriel Manigault, if this fulgy chick got a man to say yes to her, there’s still hope that I can get a date.

Speaking of Macaulay Culkin.

The world’s least baby friendly crib: Rock a bye baby or else daddy will beat you with a mallet.

We continued on to find rooms decorated exactly as though you were in the 1820′s. I thought it would be hilarious if someone filmed a spoof of the old MTV show ‘Cribs’ in there.

This is where the magic happens.

While trying to find the baseball cards exhibit that Kim was interested in, we happened across the Egyptian temple that I know from ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ (And the fact that I’m writing about this movie on the day Nora Ephron died is kind of creeping me out.)

I was surprised to find that we were allowed to walk right on in.

What douches! Graffiti through the ages.

We found the half a hallway that comprised the baseball card collection. Kim was pretty disappointed with the lameness of it all. I managed to find something to make her laugh.

Not a Magnum man.

For some reason there was a pretty sizable armor collection at the Met. The coolest one we found was from King Henry of France. The suit was so intricate, I’m 100% sure it never saw any kind of action on the battlefield, but I’m sure it was a babe magnet.

BALLIN’!!

After clunking around in that room we found a statue garden. I couldn’t help but think about all the ridiculous pictures Roger and I could take there. It was like photo Heaven!

Girl, I NEVER told you this, but…

Poor Mija! ‘Death of a Mexican Princess.’ Mexicans are always so friggin’ dramatic!

What’s with every statue of a woman having one tittie that’s just floppin’ out?

I told her to shut up, but she didn’t listen.

I knew there was a British silver collection on exhibit and since my Dad, (like a spinster,Victorian woman) is obsessed with silver, I thought I’d take some photos of the pieces for him.

The most impractical serving platter, ever.

You know your rich when your have really tiny silverware for your dolls.

If you are trying to find the elevator to go to the rooftop garden at the Met, good fucking luck. By the time we found it, we were ready to kill someone. The workers sent us on a wild goose chase all over the first floor, to the second floor, back to the first floor, then to the mezzanine, then, hidden in a corner…the elevator. They made it seem like there’s some neat-o martini bar at the top, which is what lured us up there. After a long day of walking and elevator hunting, a martini sounded pretty good!

Guess what? There is a pop up bar there, with booze in a plastic cup and lame sandwiches. I got a Diet Coke and a cookie and sat down, trying not to get even more sunburned. It was a nice view of Central Park but there were too many annoying people up there for our taste. By the way, if you think you can take the elevator back down, think again. They sent us down this shady, side stairwell that emptied us out into a gift shop. (I see what you’re trying to do Met…I work at a theme park. Nice try.)

I was born 200 years too late.

On our way to  the fashion exhibit, Schiaparelli and Prada: Impossible Conversations, this Renoir painting caught my eye. I told Kim that she was very lucky to be living in the time period when tall and tan where in because two hundred years ago I would have been the SHIT! It kills me, every time I go to a museum. I see paintings and sculptures that look just like me and everyone thinks they’re beautiful…then I go home, alone, to hang out with my cat. Come on pale people, we need to take our spot as number one back!

We couldn’t take any photos of the Prada exhibit, but there was a video playing the whole time of Prada and Schiaparelli talking. The actress that played Schiaparelli, Judy Davis, also played Judy Garland in a bio pic a few years ago, so no matter how good she was as Schiaparelli, all I could think of was “Clang, clang, clang went the trolley!”  Now I’ve got that stuck in your head, I’m sure.

Like I said, I could have stayed there forever, but Kim’s feet where killing her, and since I remembered that feeling from a few days ago, we caught a cab back to the apartment. Kim and Johnny went to “the best Chinese food ever,” while I went back to the Comedy Cellar. Johnny told me I was missing out on a “once in a lifetime experience.”

The closest I came to “seeing” CQ, that mysterious son of a gun, on my last night in NYC.

Ardie totally remembered me from Monday and asked if I had seen Colin…ha! I knew he wasn’t going to be performing that night, but wanted to see a show anyways. Ardie told me there was going to be a special guest, which I didn’t really care either way about, so long as I had a good laugh. Tom Papa (yes, the very one who had that stinking cocktail party that blocked me from meeting Mr. Q) performed. After he stepped off,  a wave of chatter rush through the crowd and since I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I didn’t recognize the the next comedian, who’s back was to me. He got on stage and all I heard was, “What’s the deal with this?”

Holy crap, it was Seinfeld…and for $12. My stingy little heart was filled with glee over how much money I just accidently saved.  How ’bout that for a “once in a lifetime experience, ” eh Johnny? People started taking photos, but there’s a no photo policy at the Cellar and my server, Kinga, laid the smack down on some bro-y business guys. (I really liked her, she reminded me of me when I serve.) That is why I don’t have a photo of him, because I’m a rule follower. His set was good, a lot about his kids because that’s what’s going on his life right now. It was brisk and not very long.

Ardie and my sunburn.

After the show was done I headed upstairs and met a nice lady from Scotland as I waited to see if there was any stand by tickets available for the next show. There wasn’t and I didn’t feel like leaving yet, so I grabbed a seat at the end of the bar. Since people ALWAYS talk to me, I was certain I’d meet a special kind of crazy if I sat there long enough. I looked around and noticed that in the booth to my left sat Seinfeld and Tom Papa (in my head I say Tom’s name like Jerry used to say “Newman.”) No, I didn’t talk to them, why the hell would I? To remind Jerry of the time I sat near him at the Broadway Deli in Santa Monica on my 18th birthday (which is the day before his) in 2003? He totally remembers that, it would’ve been pointless.

After a while a guy came over and sat next to me while he waited for his date to get out of the bathroom. I found out that it was their first date, but they had boned before, so he felt obligated to take her out and he only kind of likes her. He was just the kind of over-sharer that I knew would pop up.

I chatted with the nice bartender, Mike (I think), and found out that apartments in NYC aren’t as stupid expensive as I thought. Sure some of them are but not all of them, just like in LA. The bouncer, Shaq (I’m pretty sure that’s his Christian name), befriended me and before I left, kissed my hand like a gentleman. I met Dave Attell, who was very polite. Wil showed up again and had Ardie’s daughter with him. The Scottish lady found me and talked with us for a while. Wil, who is the most Zen-like person I’ve ever met, pulled up a map on his phone to show Ardie’s girl where Scotland is. I would take geography lessons from him, he’s pretty good.

I did not want to leave the Cellar, I love it there, but I needed to meet back up with Kim. She was at a bar with a family friend, Nick. By the time I got there, they had watched the Kings lose, so they were pretty tight.  Apparently we were close to Time Square, so we walked over  to check one last thing off our list.  It seemed a lot smaller to me in real life, like a movie back lot, and it wasn’t a location that meant anything to me. It’s just gigantic advertising. What did impress me was the statue of George M. Cohan. Like I do with most things, I relate them to movies. So, with George M. Cohan, it was not to his Broadway hits, but to James Cagney in ‘ Yankee Doodle Dandy.’

George M. Cohan, a real life nephew of my Uncle Sam.

I wanted to dance like this (see video) down the red stairs behind the statue.

Kim decided it was a good idea to have hobo take a photo of us with her super expensive camera. I told her afterwards, maybe, let’s not let strangers touch our stuff at 3AM. Nick, this being his first night ever in NYC, completely disagreed with me and said that no one would hurt us. I told him that I’ve successfully made it through six days in the city without getting raped and/or murdered and he wasn’t going to screw it up for me. So I threw their drunk asses in a cab and got us back to the apartment, so we could sleep before our trip back to the West Coast.

Tough Crowd

13 Jun

If Mona Lisa would have had this pizza, her smile would’ve been more impressive.

So…it was still raining on day three of our trip but I didn’t care. I was in a great mood because we were going to the Comedy Cellar later that day. We started the day in Soho for an afternoon of shopping. There were some small boutiques but I could find most of the shops out here in California. Kim was very excited about the Dash store, I was not impressed. The store was built by women who are known for their large asses. There is no way I could even fit my left leg into the dresses there, so I don’t know how those big booty hoes do it! The store wasn’t stocked very well and it looked like they were still moving in…but they’ve been at that location for a while.

Cell phone dressing room photos: how I shop with Roger two time zones away.

Although Johnny did MAJOR damage at Bloomingdale’s, I ended up buying a few dresses there myself.  I could have bought that dress above in all 4 colors, but I don’t want a closet full of the same dress, like an even more pale version of Wilma Flintstone. I ended up getting the green one and Johnny said I looked “very Irish”…he regretted that statement as soon as it left his lips! Never tell a Scottish girl she looks Irish. (Even though I’m painfully pale and look fabulous in green…you just don’t say that.)

Lombardi’s pizza, just another stop on our Fat Ass Tour.

Thank God we ate AFTER we went shopping, that really is a better order to do things. Lombardi’s is the first pizza joint in New York and has been around for over a hundred years. Even though Kim and I work at a pizza place, we were still stoked to have some pizza that’s actually good.

Coal oven at Lombardi’s, made the traditional Italian way, by Hispanics.

Right after we got there, the place got PACKED! All kinds of people came in, including a large group of Asians who were dressed like they were going to the clubs. A tight mini dress is not what I want to eat pizza in. Dress for comfort chick, come on!

I had made reservations to see the 8PM show at the Comedy Cellar, so Kim and I hopped in a cab and headed over. As we pulled up Kim nonchalantly said, “This is where the killings happen.” I knew what she was talking about, ‘Law and Order.’ “Not true, ” I retorted, “how about Central Park?” In addition to hitting a bunch of tourist locations, we made it to the top two killing spots from our favorite show. Success!

Kim and Me (not looking Irish!) at the Comedy Cellar.

I guess I can equate the  Cellar to a comedy church. There is tons of stained glass upstairs and since you are going down into the cellar to see the show, you have to bow down, out of respect, to get to your seat. They asked if we wanted to be in the front row, Kim did NOT because she was afraid of getting heckled…even though I told her I could handle it for her. We sat in the second row…about 1 centimeter behind the first. The Cellar is smaller than my section at work, but they CRAM about a hundred people in there every night.

Ardie and myself after the show.

The MC was a very funny comedian, Ardie Fuqua. I have NEVER seen someone with that amount of energy who was able to maintain it all night. He was a riot and did get the crowd involved, exactly what Kim was afraid of. There was a large group of British guys in front of us and he asked them if they had talked to the pretty girls behind them. Before they could answer, I blurted out, “No they did not!” Oh snap, it was on. Ardie tried to see if I was interested, nope. I don’t date losers. (We stomped the English.Yeah, maybe  it was 200+ years ago, never forget.)  This back and forth went on during the change of comedians to the stage.

I was jazzed to see Colin Quinn again. Kim hadn’t seen him before and I told her his stuff  was similar to the kooky topics I talk about. I don’t know who was more surprised by the material covered in his set, Kim or myself. It was so tailor-made to my tastes that if he would have started talking about Teddy Roosevelt I would have passed out. My favorite bit was when he described the kind of killer he would be on ‘Law and Order.’  I can still see it in my head, perfection!

After Colin, we got to see Darrell Hammond. He did all the Clinton, Rumsfeld, Trump impressions that he’s known for. He was funny, but I enjoyed Colin’s set more. It seemed more thought out and it was just…funnier.

We headed upstairs after the show because I knew that the comedians hang out afterwards. Plus, I wanted to have an actual chat with CQ. When I met Colin the first time I was with my parents and was barely able to get a word in because they were like a couple of loud, tittering  bobby soxers meeting Sinatra. (Yes, for those of you that know me, I am a loud, pushy person. I am that way because I am the product of two even louder and pusher people. I didn’t stand a chance in Visalia.)

On our way up Ardie stopped me and asked if I was interested in the British guys from the show. I told him I was actually trying to meet Colin. With that, he SPRINTED  into the Olive Tree Cafe upstairs and yelled out, “Where’s Colin? Get him out here!”  Well he wasn’t there. He went to a cocktail party at Tom Papa’s…damn it!

Kim, Keith Robinson, Me and Dan Soder being a total goober.

Ardie, my personal match maker, started texting Colin to get back down to the Cellar. Kim and I watched the King’s game at the bar and I noticed that Keith Robinson, who I’m a fan of and know from ‘Tough Crowd’, came in. He invited me to come sit in the booth with him and of course I did. Kim, who didn’t know any of these comedians was thinking, “Bitch, what the hell do you think you’re doing ?!” It didn’t take long for Keith to call Colin and tell him about “this young chick with big titties”  (he wasn’t off on the description) who wanted to chat with him. I started to feel like I was in some 1960′s farcical comedy where everyone is trying to help but end up making the situation worse and more ridiculous. All my story was missing was Mickey Rooney running around playing a Chinaman!

Wil, Me and Kim.

While all this was going down I was sitting next to another comedian, Wil Sylvince. He quietly told me that, unfortunately for me, Colin probably thought these guys were punking him because they do it all the time. That would be my luck!

Wil showed me a video he was in. Although I’m not a boxing fan, I thought it was really good.

At about 2AM, we went to go get Yankee tickets from a bartender Johnny knew. When we got there, Queen was blasting through the speakers and long story short, we got back at 4:30AM all because of Freddie Mercury.

Me and Dave, the Irish barkeep, rocking out to Queen.

I Like New York in June…

2 Jun

image

So…I didn’t think I was going to make it to NYC but long story short, I did. I’m traveling with my friend Kim and staying with her uncle in Manhattan  I’ll go into more details when I get home but so far in one day I’ve been all over Central Park, Top of the Rock, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, a big ass street fair on 6th Ave., Columbus Circle, and (cover your ears Mom) a bunch of bars last night.
The men out here are million times more aggressive, which I love, but the young ones are still stupid. Example:
Dummy: You’ve got the best dirty blonde hair, it looks almost natural.
I just stare at him.
Dummy: I smoke a lot of weed.
I shot Kim’s uncle a look and he got the guy to leave.
Tonight we’re hitting Lombardi’s and Time Square. Tomorrow: my first brunch ever, TR’s house, the Met. Monday: maybe living out my Tootsie fantasies at the Russian Tea Room and Colin Quinn at the Comedy Cellar. Tuesday: Yankee game.
I don’t have a lot set in stone, I just want to have a bunch of experiences. Yes Heather, I know how gay that sounds, but you can go screw yourself!

Such Is Life

6 May

Then your cat gets titty cancer and you die alone.

So…here are some true stories from my life that occurred in the past two weeks. I don’t really know what they say about me…how to become a hermit in 30 days or less, tips for a young cat lady, idiots and the people who hate them? All I know is, I’m wasting all my attractive years alone, dealing with the weirdest people possible and that’s not right.

At least it’s funny—in a sad way.

I always get crazy people at work, but rarely do I get people who make me feel freaking uncomfortable. I was dealing with a party of 20, twenty-somethings-my favorite-and half a hour into the meal someone new arrived. Picture this: a young woman dressed in biker gear. Got it? She’s also a lesbian midget in a motorized wheelchair. This was our interaction, note that her responses are highly over sexualized in tone:

Me: Can I get you a drink?

Crazy: I want your glasses on my face.

Me: Can I get you a drink for your mouth?

Crazy: Only if you feed it to me. (Flicks her tongue Gene Simmons style.)

I come back with her Coke.

Crazy: You can’t deny this. I love you.

Kill me.

Normally the only guys that try to flirt with me on the freeway are creepy gardeners. One afternoon, in stopped traffic, a twelve year old boy pops his head out of the back passenger window, points to me and mouths, “You,” points to himself, “Me,” then nods. What  a weirdo, I thought. Two minutes later he did it again to make sure I knew it was for me and made threw a bunch of air kisses and call me hand gestures.

Glad to know I’m popular with under-aged boys, says the girl whose preference is older men.

Just yesterday I had a black guy (duh, the only kind of guy that hits on me on a regular basis) ask me if I would do the Twist with him. I don’t know if that’s some new hip hop term for a sex move or what. He wanted me to hang out with him and his group of friends who tipped me less than 10% on an almost $300 check.

After all this nonsense, I had an emergency and subsequent melt down.

The photo isn’t mine: my skin and cat are not orange, nor are they this small.

One of the few things that doesn’t drive me to punch people in the face is my cat, Mr. Bojangles (yeah, that’s his real name. Do not call him Bojangles if you’re nasty.) I took him to the vet because I felt a lump. The Dr. asked if I’d realized the bump was next to his nipple. No, I don’t particularly enjoy molesting cats, if that’s what you’re getting at. She told me it could be breast cancer…on my male cat. Really? Only I would get a boy cat with titty cancer. After tests, three days of waiting and one bowl of raw cookie dough I am happy to say he’s fine but now I have to feel him up on a regular basis. At least someone in this house will be getting some action.

God had sparred my cat’s life, I was feeling pretty good and emerged from my cave. I drove up to hang out with my Granny’s 92 year old friend to talk about old movies and history. (I’m popular with the underage and senior crowds.) I had dinner with my parents at a friend of the family’s restaurant. The waitress knows them and overhead us talking about seeing Colin Quinn last month.

Waitress: Is that the comedian you guys saw?

Me: Yep.

Waitress: Yea, I watched that special and I didn’t get it.  I don’t think you have good taste in comedians.

Me: Shut your face.

In my experience, a way to get a good tip is to NOT insult your table’s taste in anything. My positive outlook on humanity came crashing back down to reality. I’m back in my writing cave and I won’t be coming out until next month when I go to New York  to visit my friend Taylor. I’m planning on seeing Colin at the Comedy Cellar, because I think he’s fabulous and because I “get it.” Maybe I’ll even meet a nice guy who’s smart….

How Low Can You Go?

19 Mar

So…it shouldn’t be too shocking that I agree 100% with this comment. While visiting my parents last week for our Colin Quinn adventure, my Dad, a teacher, told me that the high school district he works for wants to lower the percentages of the grading scale so more students can pass. (Example: a C is normally 70%, it would be changed to 50% for a C.) This would basically ensure than everyone with a high school diploma is now an absolute moron.

If everyone is stupid…who’ll be famous?

I don’t understand why Jon Hamm’s comment offended anyone, it’s the truth. He’s not the only celebrity to think this way. “The fact that the Kardashians could be more popular than a show like Mad Men is disgusting. It’s super disgusting to be a part of that culture.” – Jonah Hill. Exactly, Mad Men is a much better show with smokin’ hot dudes for the ladies (something the Kardashians do NOT have). But, if you’re only watching the Kardashians for Kim’s curvy figure, Christian Hendricks can do that for you on Mad Men, make the switch.

If people got upset because they knew Hamm was right, but they didn’t want anyone calling them out on why they were stupid, I can understand that. The truth can hurt sometimes. Kim Kardashian is famous for making a sex tape. Not something I would call brilliant. But, the ball was in her court so…

“I just heard about the comment Jon Hamm made about me in an interview. I respect Jon and I am a firm believer that everyone is entitled to their own opinion and that not everyone takes the same path in life. We’re all working hard and we all have to respect one another. Calling someone who runs their own businesses, is a part of a successful TV show, produces, writes, designs, and creates, “stupid,” is in my opinion careless.”- Kim K.

Holy God, let me wipe the Bea Arthur look off my face before I try to break this down.

I would have more respect for Kim if she were to come out and say, “Yep, I’m dumb as dirt but I make a ton of money because of it, so I’m happy to be stupid all the way to the bank!”  Her defense, which was most certainly NOT written by her, was ridiculous. Seriously, hard working? You take photos all day, I wish my job was that “hard.”  A hard working business woman is someone like Martha Stewart or Oprah. Kim doesn’t even run her own business, her mom does that, therefore Pimp Mamma Kris Jenner is actually the smart one, NOT Kim.

Since when did we start caring about the losers more than the winners? When Napoleon lost at Waterloo,  he didn’t go back to France to get a big “nice try” parade.  They exiled his ass..because he LOST. They didn’t care about his feelings. Come on, we don’t give out all gold medals at the Olympics to make everyone feel good! We need to stop pandering to the idiots and start celebrating smarts and wit again. But we can’t do that if we keep lowering our standards and everyone is running around with 50% C averages!

Fascinating Mr. Q

17 Mar

That’s how we do it in Visalia, son.

So…I finally got a Friday night off. Did I go out and hit the clubs? Get wasted in Hollywood and lose my phone? Have some strange dude grind up on me?

What do you think I am, high or something? I’m way too cool for all that noise. I drove up to Visalia to see Colin Quinn’s one man show, ‘Long Story Short’…with my parents. And I wonder why I’m single. I’m sure that hanging out at venues where no one within a decade of my age is in attendance is probably the reason why I’ll end up with a 50+ year old guy…which, I’m sure, my mother will be just thrilled about!

It’s not just me that enjoys this show. My Dad quotes lines from it on the regular. My Mom, who’s not a fan of cussing (well, not a fan of me cussing, actually), now answers the phone (when she sees it’s me) with the greeting/quote , “If it isn’t that snitch ass bitch.” Ahh…parental bonding.

The show is all about world cultures and history. I work in a melting pot of cultures, actually it’s more like a gutter, so I totally relate to many of the stories that are told. Plus I love to tell people weird, historical facts. I’ve referenced his show before on my blog, I even posted a link to show on my last post. Too lazy to scroll down to see it? Fine. Here, watch it. I’ll wait.

I’ve never been to Visalia and had/still have no idea why Colin didn’t have his show in LA or even Bakersfield. (Shut up, just because it’s not LA, Bakersfield is bigger than Visalia.) It’s actually a really cute little town. Please understand that my parents never go out, so this was a big deal. My Dad made reservations at The Little Italy Cafe, because after serving Italian food all week, I just can’t get enough! It’s actually a really good place, a million times better than the crap I hock to tourists every night, so I would totally go back…if I ever had another reason to be in Visalia.

Being the youngest person at an event is nothing new to me. Next month is the TCM Film Festival where I will be the youngest person (by 40 years) around for miles! Since I was with a more mature crowd, I  thought they would all have their theater etiquette down pat. WRONG.

Maybe the local Rite Aide was out of Flomax but about every 20 minutes, a man in the row behind me got up and down, pulling my hair each time…and not in the good way! Always so eloquent with words, my Dad said, “What’s this guy doing? Jerkin’ off in the bathroom?”

Former sluts traipsed in late, Bud Lites in hand, on their way to their front row seats. Sorry Wrinkles, you aren’t hot enough to be late anymore and lay off the beer, the Mom Jeans you bought at Kohl’s are lookin’ a little too snug.

Obviously the show was great. I knew what I was getting going in and there was even some new material thrown in. Sadly, it was the last live performance of the show. Thank God we went. My Mom knew from following Colin on Twitter that he comes out after the show for meet and greets. With the excitement of a teenage girl at a Justin Beiber concert, my Dad, DVD and Sharpie in hand, bounded up to the stage as soon as the show was over.

We finally found the meet and greet spot…in the hall next to the stage. There was one guy in front of us who was visibly nervous. So nervous that he was making me uncomfortable. And I don’t get uncomfortable around celebrities! Ugh, I don’t even like thinking about that weird dude. He reminded me of a shaky little Chiwawa. The security guard was having issues taking a photo of Shakes McGee, so my Mom asked if I wanted to take the photo for him. No. I take photos of stupid tourist all day at work, that’s the last thing I want to do on my night off.

After that poor sucker got a photo, my Dad bulldozed over him to get the autograph he came for.

I know it’s past your bedtime, but don’t fall asleep yet Dad.

After hearing me talk to my Mom, Colin said, “Hey, you’re the one that was tweeting me today. You said you’d be here with your parents.” Amazed that someone other than my Mom read my writing, I confirmed his statement and got a nice hug. (He smells good, in case anyone cares.) He kept a good squeeze on me so my Mom could take some more photos.

It felt like Prom night all over again. Some nice, funny guy, posing with me while my Mom, who can’t figure out the camera, takes horrible photos of us. See…

Prom 2012: This would have been a cute photo…if we had the rest of our heads.

Just like high school. Except this time my parents actually like the guy I’m posing with.

After we took up enough of his time, I stumbled across this fabulous display on our way back to the car.

Nothing says romance like a beer and shamrock themed wedding.

It was a great early birthday gift. If you’re ever in L.A. Colin, we should go out and talk about history. Clearly we have that and comedy in common, plus you’re in my ideal age bracket. Let’s make this happen.

CLUELESS

5 Mar

“Just think of how stupid the average person is, and then realize that half of them are even stupider.”- George Carlin

So…what do stupid people think about? That’s a legitimate question since there are more and more of them trolling the Earth every day. I mean, Snookie just got knocked up, that can’t be great news for our society.

Roger and I talk about this often, partly because I work with the masses and partly because he’s a teacher. While bitching about this over lunch at Yardhouse, we asked the waitress what kind of booze made up our amazing drinks. She told us and said she had no idea where to find it. I suggested she Google it.  “Oh my God, I never thought of that,” was her response.

Am I the only one using the internet for it’s true purpose? Learning…and cat videos. I love the internet. Most days I end up getting sucked into a Wikipedia black hole. I’ll start looking up F.Scott Fitzgerald. Then, through a series of questions I end up finding out that Abe Lincoln’s son filled in Abe’s grave with cement because so many people tried to steal the body. (True and pretty gross.)

While I’m on my weird, acid trippy, trivia quest, everyone else is doing what? Looking at other people’s lives on Facebook?

Let’s face it, Facebook is pretty lame. Uh, and those stupid status updates…I don’t care how sick you are or how your life is like a fairytale with your perfect husband (choke yourself) or my favorite, how bored you are.

When I was a little kid, my Granny told me, “intelligent people don’t get bored.” You’re ON the internet while you’re typing “I’m bored.” Look something up and learn something new. Most of these kids/young adults are all suffering from ADHD right? Shouldn’t they be looking up a bunch of things so that they’re even more widely read then myself? Oh yeah, that involves thinking, which is boring.

Here’s a little clip about what happens to society when people get bored:

What bothers me almost as much as people who are too lazy to think is when people give someone a hard time about being knowledgeable.

Example: There’s a guy in my writing group who referenced Ken Burns in his story. I know who Ken Burns is and the guy who wrote about it clearly knows who he is, no one else did. The others who didn’t know about Ken said, “Who knows who Ken Burns is? I mean really.”

What the hell is this, high school? Only nerds know who Ken Burns is….is that the mentality? Shame people for being smart? When I don’t know about something, I shut the eff up. I don’t open my mouth and prove to everyone that I’m an idiot. Stephen Colbert’s interview with Ken Burns will inform you who he is and the introduction showcases, perfectly, that not only nerds know about this guy.

What happened to our society? No one is motivated to think or create anything new anymore. Don’t believe me? There are TWO remakes of both ‘The Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Snow White’ coming to theaters this year. Why is that? Because, as Dick Cavett said, “As long as people will accept crap, it will be financially profitable to dispense it.” It’s easier to recycle stories everyone already knows than think up a new one.

Since most people are shoved through high school/college and retain almost nothing, watch Colin Quinn’s stand up special about the history of the world. What else are you doing? You’re bored.

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