Well, at least I think I’m funny.

Kudos Andy Roddick. After being constantly compared to you my entire life and shocking random tennis fans when they ask “what’s your name?” and I say “Andy,” you have finally pushed me far enough over the edge that I want to kill myself.

It’s bad enough that your bad imitation of my devastating good looks allowed you to bag the likes of Mandy Moore and Maria Sharapova, but now, you lousy Lykens knock-off, you’ve gone and married Sports Illustrated model Brooklyn Decker.

You make me sick. Stop using your imitation Andy looks (all puns intended, hey-o!) to steal away all my ladies. Go be terrible at tennis some more instead.

Really? Vampire Weekend? Really? I mean, I know people are largely stupid. But seriously. Vampire Weekend? Gross.

The Arts must really have it out for me lately. I go see Funny Games and buy Vampire Weekend in the same week. Double-whammy.

Tonight I am going to see Metheny. You know, a guy who can actually PLAY his instrument with a high level of skill, a higher level of musicianship, and who can make an entire album by using more than two time signatures, more than 3 keys, and probably doesn’t think people should be blown away when he adds a 7 on top of his minor chord.

Well folks, just when you thought Hollywood couldn’t possibly get any stupider they’ve one-upped themselves. Just when I thought that “Reindeer Games” would be the only terrible movie with “games” in the title and I’d finally win that bet at the end of eternity - well, it looks like T. Wellser gets that cafe tea we put at stake.

“Funny Games” has to be the worst movie I have sat through in a long time. Oh, I get it, you are the anti-movie. That’s a good concept. Now go make the anti-movie. What’s this? Filming the characters doing everyday things while action is happening elsewhere? Long shots of houses at night? No music except for shitty death metal? Genius. No really. You’re a genius. To have gotten someone to pay you to make this piece of garbage, you deserve an award for best salesman ever.

Don’t go see Funny Games. It is utter trash. You will be bored with someone who’s filmed a movie based on the one clever idea they’ve ever had as they pat themselves on the back and display their utterly poor execution of said idea.

Looking through some of my old pictures today I happened upon my Bricks Pics. Man, I loved playing in this band. No fighting, great songs, plenty of mistakes and just tons of fun.

I miss all you guys and hope you’re doing well¹. And if you ever want to do it again? I’m in.

Check us out baby!

Corduroy

My Sharona

Pieces of Me

Free Fallin’

¹Except Erik. May he stub his toe every 2 hours for the rest of his life.

Well, it went better than I expected. The problems were the following:

1) I didn’t really work too hard on crafting exactly what to say. I had basic ideas and simply made up a lot of stuff. I think had I worked much harder on what to say precisely, it would’ve been a million times better. Go figure.

2) Timing was a tad off on some jokes and I was a tad quiet on some - again, probably because I hadn’t scripted much of what I said.

3) Most of the audience at this point had left - I was one of the last 4-5 comics to go, so all the comics that go early essentially just leave immediately after they’re done. This means the audience wasn’t hugely diverse - lots of girls at this point and girls often don’t find me terribly funny.

Here it is if you want to hear it.

It’s a little low to be heard on regular speakers, so you might want to pop some headphones in to check it out - otherwise you could miss something hilarious! (read: awkward.)

Alright, so a while back I told you all to be watching the blog for something new that I will be doing. You’ve also probably noticed I stopped posting so much even though you could not fathom how I couldn’t possibly come up with some random, ridiculous junk to talk about. I figure I will spill the beans now since the can of beans is over-flowing and my intake of legumes this week is making me freak out every time I think about ANY kind of bean…including the kind made of jelly or L.L. Cool J’s dad - L.L. Bean.

Anyway, tonight I make my debut at stand-up comedy. I’ve been writing since about June or July (hence the thin blog material) and, well, hopefully someone else thinks I’m funny too.

Naturally it’s an open mic so no doubt it will be rough and there’ll be lots and lots of uncomfortable silence - but lucky you, I’ll be posting the mp3’s of any sets I do on here so you have your choice of either laughing at me or laughing at me. No, that isn’t a typo, and, surprisingly, was the only way that sentence made sense(tence).

Props beforehand to Brewer, the man with whom most people think I share a brain, for helping me do some editing.

I promise nothing as there is a butt-load of stuff I need to work out and revise, and as I’ve never done this before. Anyway, wish me luck. Maybe one day I will post where I’ll be so you can come and see how tight my butt is in real life (stalker).

As things in the world are seemingly coming full circle yet again for myself, I can only tell you the following:

I am returning to my roots by creating an epic post.

Rest assured, you probably won’t get it.

Finally, in other spherical news, I’d like to welcome back The Brewer to the blogging scene by saying “Your blog is terrible.” Anyway, you can peep his new blog entitled “Noige Tit” there.

Oh 2006, how I missed you.

The kind of day where I wake up, take a deep breathe and calmly pound my alarm clock into smithereens. It’s cold outside. It’s cold inside. Brushing my teeth is just scratching my gums for all I can tell and the shower water isn’t quite as scorching hot as I’d like it to be. Maybe it’s the ice water running through my veins, who knows?

Morning television fluff that I watch every morning seems softer than usual - cancer survivors, “talented” children, how to dress for holiday parties. My brain just writhing in it’s own cynicism and spewing garbage at me already.

Walking to work is uneventful but surreal. So many people. Everywhere. Everywhere! I’m not walking faster than any of them today. My brain is on auto-pilot. Actually, it’s on Metheney-pilot. “Secret Story” is really helping me appreciate the city today in its hugeness while part of me hates that someone is that good at playing guitar that they are able to help me realize things. To me those people are separated. And I hate that I am not separated - not for money or fame, but I want to be that good at something too.

I just don’t know what.

So it is that kind of day. The wholeness and completeness of not knowing what. Ever. Why even bother going to work? It’s so stupid. What I do, what my friends do, maybe what you do. So very, very stupid. Even fun is stupid. It’s ridiculous! No hunting, no gathering, shelter’s easy enough…so what else is there? Sales reports? Don’t make me barf.

Find someone! Commiserate with someone else who doesn’t know what the hell is going on. That’ll help! Have a baby! Project things onto it so it, too, can one day not understand what the point of being so very, very stupid is. No thanks.

Then I saw a puppy. A lab puppy. Maybe it didn’t click when I smiled just from seeing it but it certainly clicked at some point (or maybe it clacked). Just be stupid and try to have fun enjoying smelling things and walking around.

If you need me, try my cell phone. Chances are I will be wandering around smelling things…after I get these sales reports done anyway.

Last night at Rafifi during a quick interlude between stand-up sets, I got up to refresh my beer. I stroll into the bar area after deciding that merely walking was no good. After all, there were countless hipsters about trying to tussle their hair so it was purposefully messy - I wanted to make a good impression.

As I made my way to the bar and got out my wallet, a girl stood to my left, and shortly thereafter a dude stood behind her. The bartender, pretty hot but pretty not-so-great at bar tending speed, came over and gave the three of us the “who’s next look?”

I tried to be nice and indicate the lady should go first, she tried to be nice and motion that I had the primo place in line, and during this nonsense the guy behind us goes ahead and orders his drink:

Andy: Uh, what?

Girl: Did that guy just cut BOTH of us?

Andy: Oh, Jesus, you’re cut? (checks himself for lacerations) No, no I seem to be okay…thank God!

Girl: What?

Andy: I can’t get cut, I am too pretty. You are…well you’re about a 6. Probably would just add a little intrigue.

Girl: That is quite possibly the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Andy: Wow, I find that hard to believe.

Girl: Asshole!

Andy: Kiss me!

Girl: Ew no! I’m leaving!

Naturally the conversation didn’t really go like that. But long story short, she turned down me buying her a drink after essentially chatting me up. How weird is that? From now on, my first impression will just be to cluck and flap my arms like wings.

I can understand why people like being nice to each other. Because they have a lousy self-image of themselves and need people to like them. What I don’t understand is the need for giving gifts to someone you barely know for something that anyone can do, or for something that inconveniences you.

Like baby showers. Oh wow, you had sex and got pregnant, and now you’re forcing people to throw you a party and give you gifts because you’ve taken on a parasite that, for at least 18 years, will do virtually nothing but spread germs, cause things to break, and make you tell me boring stories about how proud and amazed you are of it for carrying out tasks that every other child in this history of the world has completed. Oh, and it costs you an assload of time and money.

Like graduations. Oh wow, you managed to stop drinking long enough to get a C- in poly-sci and can grill me on French Monarchies from 100’s of years ago. You are also now qualified to speculate about modern politics and rhetoric, just like every other ho-ho who learned how to speak.

Like Christmas. Oh wow, you pretend you love Jesus for a day.

Just kidding. I don’t mind giving people gifts on Christmas. That makes sense to me. It’s a time when you tell a person “You know what? You are cool and I have known you for a long time. You are my friend, and you deserve to have something cool for it.” It’s true gifts are all about the effort, I have learned that time and again. Anytime I have spent a decent amount of time looking for something for someone it has worked out well - despite the fact it was a huge pain in my Kenny Roger’s Roaster. But I do that for friends and family.

What I don’t understand about Christmas gifts is where we draw the line. For instance, my sister’s boyfriend is coming to our house for Christmas. My SISTER has known this guy for…I think about 6 or 7 months, and they have been dating. I have met this dude twice.

He is a good guy and not awkward, weird, stupid, ugly, or any of those things as far as I can tell. But I have met him twice. And probably have spent no more than a couple of hours around him. I can tell you vaguely what he looks like, roughly how tall he is, and where he is from. In other words, I can give you less information about him than a $1 magazine can about your favorite celebrity.

So there was an email from my mom the other day asking for what my sister and I wanted for Christmas. My sister decides to ignore this question completely, and instead tell us what her boyfriend might like.

Uh. What?

You tell me. Am I really obligated to get this guy a present that isn’t a punch in the face? He’s going to be staying at our house, and I have to tolerate awkward conversation with a stranger, an extra dish to set, clear, and wash (because guests don’t do anything at our house), and pretend to be interested in his response to whatever questions my parents decide to ask him. Isn’t that a gift enough?

I’ll have to invite him and my sister to do stuff, and even though they won’t come, if I don’t think to invite them, I will catch hell for it.

I do not expect this kindly fellow to get me a gift. In fact, I would much prefer that he didn’t so there is no need for me to open something and then feel awkward for one of a few reasons:

1) His gift was more expensive than mine - dude, I get it. You make like 3 times my salary. Despite the fact that it might be nothing to you to spend $20-$50 on something for a stranger, the fact that I could spare maybe $10-$20 makes me feel like garbage. The higher the dollar amount, the larger the mound of trash that I feel like becomes.

2) His gift is in the right price range, but altogether unusable and unlikeable - now I have to pretend I like something (awk-ward!) and then keep it around just in case we’re in each other’s presence in the future and he says “Hey, how’s that Barry Manilow poster I got you?” And I have to go “Oh, I didn’t throw that away at all! I have kept it in my bedroom! Come and see! It has not caused me to be laughed at and has not spoiled many-a-night of making out with a hot girl.”

3) His gift is in the right price range and I think it is awesome - this is possibly worst-case scenario. Because I know for a fact that nothing that I can afford to get this guy could be remotely as good. It won’t be well thought out, it won’t be expensive enough to be worth returning. It will at best be something that is moderately useful for a week or two, and then gets stored away or thrown away, depending on where he rates on the Jung-Myers-Briggs scale.

My sister has disposable income. My parents have disposable income. This dude has disposable income. I have credit card debt, student loans, and late commission checks that are used to pay off the former and later because my paychecks are roughly enough to keep me alive and occasionally drunk.

Now, I know what you’re thinking - “Man, this kid is an asshole. Just don’t get him anything.” Yeah. Right. There are a couple things that will happen if I go the Grinch route.

1) My sister or parents will get him something “from me.” And I will have to take credit for it - ruining the principle on which I based not getting him a gift in the first place, forcing me to pay close attention on Christmas Day so I don’t say “oh that’s cool, now who was that from?” or potentially getting him something he doesn’t like which is like the double whammy.

2) Number 1 doesn’t happen and he ends up getting me a gift as above. That just makes me a terrible person in everyone’s eyes - now not only does he have more money and get me cool stuff, or crappy stuff that I pretend is cool, but I didn’t get him anything.

And there is no way around this. I am forced into an awkward situation because my sister has liked someone for 6 months.

My question to you is, I know very little about how most people would deal with this situation. What would you do - and what is the non-asshole course of action?