it's not the green tom show.
last night, i went to marco island to see tom green at the off the hook comedy club. first time i had ever been out that way, so let's recap the events.
a friend of mine scored tickets and forty dollar food vouchers to the show, knowing i like tom green but couldn't afford the show.
now, i had been up since four in the morning, and working all day, so naturally, the ten at night show was gonna be tough, and i was kind of a dick, because, when i'm that fucking tired, i don't want to be social, i don't want to be funny, hell, i don't want to be entertained. i just want silence to try and eradicate how fucking beat i feel.
we make the drive to marco, and what a long fucking drive it was. why the fuck anyone would live out there, let alone open a comedy club there, is beyond me.
how much was the one pitcher of beer i ordered you ask? thirteen bones. for a pitcher, not even cold beer, and two warm mugs... thirteen, fucking, dollars.
forty dollar food vouchers. twenty for me, twenty for her.
it's funny, i'm so used to scraping by on the cheapest thing, that when i have the opportunity to get something expensive, i almost never go for it, because i'm just not that guy.
i get a cup of lobster bisque. something i love quite a bit. it was $4.99, and it literally came to me on a flat saucer and was no more than a small microwave cup of soup. how was it? not good. it was like chunks of imitation lobster meat dumped into nacho cheese sauce. fucking awful.
so i have some money left. do i want half a dozen oysters for ten bucks? six oysters, as much as i love them, is not enough to fill me up... i opt for the lobster cocktail.
it's described as a whole lobster, tail and all, de-meated out on a platter with melted butter and cocktail sauce. now i can get behind this, because it costs $17.99, and for that price, it's gotta be bountiful.
what i got, was the smallest lobster i've ever seen, and i kid you not, had to weigh less that a pound. it was a spoonful of claw meat on a leaf of lettuce, served in a martini glass, with a small tail split. i actually ate it in under a minute, that's how little there was.
now, granted, this was all comped, imagine if i had actually paid. captain brien's off the hook comedy club not only is a shitty venue for comedy, but they overcharged everything and the food wasn't even good.
i fucking hate pocketed areas of wealth, where the rich think less and shit is great because it's so high in price.
tom green was a saving grace for me, because he was funny, opted for a photo with me, and signed my copy of his book, "hollywood causes cancer," which is something i recommend everyone read. he also sang, "i'm gonna throw the piggy down the hill," when i shouted the reference out, to follow it by saying, "that song's for the one fan who knows about that rare bit from the old public access show... no one else will get that."
all in all, i was happy to meet a guy who i think is a genius in the realm of comedy, and always has been far ahead of his time, but i just hate how society runs things like marco island and it's inner workings. i hate comedy clubs. they're the opposite of what they're supposed to be.
i think i learned last night just how depressive of a person i am, and was told by my date that i should seriously consider trying to get on anti-depressants. me? really...?
a friend of mine scored tickets and forty dollar food vouchers to the show, knowing i like tom green but couldn't afford the show.
now, i had been up since four in the morning, and working all day, so naturally, the ten at night show was gonna be tough, and i was kind of a dick, because, when i'm that fucking tired, i don't want to be social, i don't want to be funny, hell, i don't want to be entertained. i just want silence to try and eradicate how fucking beat i feel.
we make the drive to marco, and what a long fucking drive it was. why the fuck anyone would live out there, let alone open a comedy club there, is beyond me.
how much was the one pitcher of beer i ordered you ask? thirteen bones. for a pitcher, not even cold beer, and two warm mugs... thirteen, fucking, dollars.
forty dollar food vouchers. twenty for me, twenty for her.
it's funny, i'm so used to scraping by on the cheapest thing, that when i have the opportunity to get something expensive, i almost never go for it, because i'm just not that guy.
i get a cup of lobster bisque. something i love quite a bit. it was $4.99, and it literally came to me on a flat saucer and was no more than a small microwave cup of soup. how was it? not good. it was like chunks of imitation lobster meat dumped into nacho cheese sauce. fucking awful.
so i have some money left. do i want half a dozen oysters for ten bucks? six oysters, as much as i love them, is not enough to fill me up... i opt for the lobster cocktail.
it's described as a whole lobster, tail and all, de-meated out on a platter with melted butter and cocktail sauce. now i can get behind this, because it costs $17.99, and for that price, it's gotta be bountiful.
what i got, was the smallest lobster i've ever seen, and i kid you not, had to weigh less that a pound. it was a spoonful of claw meat on a leaf of lettuce, served in a martini glass, with a small tail split. i actually ate it in under a minute, that's how little there was.
now, granted, this was all comped, imagine if i had actually paid. captain brien's off the hook comedy club not only is a shitty venue for comedy, but they overcharged everything and the food wasn't even good.
i fucking hate pocketed areas of wealth, where the rich think less and shit is great because it's so high in price.
tom green was a saving grace for me, because he was funny, opted for a photo with me, and signed my copy of his book, "hollywood causes cancer," which is something i recommend everyone read. he also sang, "i'm gonna throw the piggy down the hill," when i shouted the reference out, to follow it by saying, "that song's for the one fan who knows about that rare bit from the old public access show... no one else will get that."
all in all, i was happy to meet a guy who i think is a genius in the realm of comedy, and always has been far ahead of his time, but i just hate how society runs things like marco island and it's inner workings. i hate comedy clubs. they're the opposite of what they're supposed to be.
i think i learned last night just how depressive of a person i am, and was told by my date that i should seriously consider trying to get on anti-depressants. me? really...?