Stand-Up Routine
I've never done this before, so bear with me.
How's everyone doing tonight?
Any hot girls in the audience? Single hot girls keep clapping. Single hot girls with a grizzly bear fetish, keep clapping. I'll see you after the show.
I am a hairy bastard. I didn't realize how bad it was until I started letting it get long. In a few weeks, I'll be able to tie it back. I'll be one freaky-looking fucker with a pony tail in the middle of my back. Eventually, though, I'll have to get it cut. I don't think I could take the awkward silence after, "hey, Wolfie where'd you get the tail?"
At least I'm not socially awkward. You know the geeky type -- the brains with glasses who can recite pi to 10 or more digits. Staying up until the wee hours of the morning, illuminated by nothing but a laptop screen. Unable to sleep because they have this really great idea for a comedy routine making fun of geeks. I wouldn't want to be thrown in the same pit as those lame bastards. By the way, I'm a Computer Science major.
I always knew I'd be a geek, though. I used to take shit apart as a kid. Anyone else do that? Sometimes I'd even put it back together again. And sometimes it would even work after that. Years ago, my dad had a cell phone. Now he has a paper weight. I don't know why he kept it. It was not the most thoughtful Father's day gift. "Here, Dad! I broke your phone!" But it beat a card. What man has ever wanted a card? "Thanks, son. Next year, could you just give me the four bucks instead?"
I set fire to my grandmother's rug one time. I had built a lamp with the thinnest wire possible. I didn't know shit about voltage and resistance and current -- specifically how too much of it can melt plastic and start burning carpet. But while my brother and I were running around the house screaming, this mad scientist's reign of terror was being ended by a woman in her seventies armed with nothing but quick thinking and a throw pillow.
She's 91 now. You're clapping for her. Thank you.
How's everyone doing tonight?
Any hot girls in the audience? Single hot girls keep clapping. Single hot girls with a grizzly bear fetish, keep clapping. I'll see you after the show.
I am a hairy bastard. I didn't realize how bad it was until I started letting it get long. In a few weeks, I'll be able to tie it back. I'll be one freaky-looking fucker with a pony tail in the middle of my back. Eventually, though, I'll have to get it cut. I don't think I could take the awkward silence after, "hey, Wolfie where'd you get the tail?"
At least I'm not socially awkward. You know the geeky type -- the brains with glasses who can recite pi to 10 or more digits. Staying up until the wee hours of the morning, illuminated by nothing but a laptop screen. Unable to sleep because they have this really great idea for a comedy routine making fun of geeks. I wouldn't want to be thrown in the same pit as those lame bastards. By the way, I'm a Computer Science major.
I always knew I'd be a geek, though. I used to take shit apart as a kid. Anyone else do that? Sometimes I'd even put it back together again. And sometimes it would even work after that. Years ago, my dad had a cell phone. Now he has a paper weight. I don't know why he kept it. It was not the most thoughtful Father's day gift. "Here, Dad! I broke your phone!" But it beat a card. What man has ever wanted a card? "Thanks, son. Next year, could you just give me the four bucks instead?"
I set fire to my grandmother's rug one time. I had built a lamp with the thinnest wire possible. I didn't know shit about voltage and resistance and current -- specifically how too much of it can melt plastic and start burning carpet. But while my brother and I were running around the house screaming, this mad scientist's reign of terror was being ended by a woman in her seventies armed with nothing but quick thinking and a throw pillow.
She's 91 now. You're clapping for her. Thank you.