Stand-Up 2
Update: Performed most of this routine August 5, 2009. You would think that being a technically-adept computer nerd, I would be able to start my camera recording... not so much. I have video, but it starts a couple minutes in, I did not deliver the routine as flawlessly as I had hoped, and the audio quality is terrible. I could post it to YouTube, but it's really bad, so only by special request will I allow the video to eat 600MB of bandwidth pushing this thing online.
How are you guys doing tonight?
How are you ladies doing tonight? Are any of you ladies single? Any of you ladies single with a grizzly bear fetish? I can help you act out your camping fantasy. All I ask for in return is your picnic basket. My back is a shag carpet of manliness. I have one of those sticky rollers to give to people after they hug me. Being hairy sucks in heat like this, but it has benefits. At least when someone makes fun of my weight, I can say, "I'm not fat, I'm fluffy!" and actually mean it. I also make money on the side as a model. Apparently, when I don't shave, I'm a dead ringer for Bigfoot.
I have no idea why I'm up here. I always hated talking to crowds. They say it helps to picture the audience in their underwear. This really depends on the audience. If I'm standing in front of a crowd of hot women, I'm going to need a podium to hide a package. But I'm talking to a bar, and that's completely different. You, sir, don't ever wear a thong. (This last section did not go as well as I thought it might. People seemed to like the first section, though.)
I used to take stuff apart as a kid. Anyone else do that? Sometimes I'd even put it back together again. I'm always curious to know how something works, and sometimes when I'm done, it still does. Years ago, my dad had a cellular phone. Now he has a Motorola paper weight. He's still got it, and I don't know why. It's not like it was the most thoughtful Father's day gift ever. "Here, Dad! I got you a brick!" It beat getting a card. What man has ever wanted a card? I got a card in the mail one time, and I thought to myself, "next time, could you just send me the four bucks instead?" I wish I could still get away with making cards for various occasions. Not only would it be cheaper, but I could gradually get rid of all the glue, glitter, and macaroni I've stockpiled over the years. Actually, that's a lie. Do I look like a guy who would let perfectly good pasta go to waste? (I completely butchered the delivery of this bit. Kinda forgot where I was because I was paying more attention to the audience than to my material.)
People always tell me "it's the thought that counts." Bullshit. When was the last time you heard someone say "thank you" when you told them you thought about getting them a present? (This didn't make it.)
I have always been inventive. I built my first laptop from scratch. It was very stable -- never once crashed on me. It was made of two pieces of plywood and a door hinge. I drew in the screen and keyboard with marker. It had its drawbacks, though. That thing was so SLOW! I could only get Wi-Fi at a lumber yard. And it nearly caught fire when I tried to plug it in. Actually, that's a lie, too. You can't force a sheet of plywood into an electrical socket. That's what thin metal wire is for.
You see, many years ago in my naive tinkering days, I built a lamp and used the thinnest wire possible, jamming the ends into a 110-volt outlet. I didn't know about Ohm's Law which basically says that with lots of voltage and not enough resistance, you get a lot of current. Lots of current manifests as heat. Lots of heat manifests as FIRE! For those of you keeping score, it's fire: 1, Grandma's living room rug: 0. While I was busy running around 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. (Drop the bit about Ohm's law or at least shorten it, drop the "keeping score" bit, and shorten this story.)
(The following two bits didn't make it because of time.)
I love my bicycle, but I need to become less stupid. I nearly got hit by a Corvette the other day. Now, I've actually been tagged by a Volvo before, and quite frankly, getting pancaked by a Corvette seems like a far classier method of becoming a road stain. For example: If I tell a friend, "I got hit by a Volvo," I get the usual response: "That's nice." If I tell the same friend, "I got hit by a Corvette," the response is remarkably different: "Really? What color?" "Red. Dripping red. With a touch of pancreas."
I am all for gay marriage. This is despite my initial position on marriage itself which is a topic for a less humorous discussion. I believe that everyone, regardless of gender preference, should have the right to experience the same level of hell that law permits straight couples. And if anyone out there really still believes that being gay is wrong and that those who are should be punished, I propose a solution: Give gay people marriage. Just don't give them divorce.
I once had someone proposition me over the Internet. She asked if I would pound her vag. I told her, "Sure! Let me just get my sledgehammer." I will crush that pussy into gravel.
A friend was throwing a party, and I tried to surprise him with one of those giant cakes that had a stripper inside. Nobody told me you were supposed to take the stripper out before baking it. It was still delicious. Though there was something about it that tasted a little fishy. I think it might have been crabs. (Lose the last bit.)
(Closed out normally.)
Alright! I managed to cover ladies, shag carpets, stage fright, geekiness, fires, bicycling, divorce, vagina destruction, strippers, and baby cannibalism. Hopefully, I can remember all of this.
In retrospect, I really only covered ladies, shag carpets, stage fright, fires, vagina destruction, and strippers. And I didn't remember all of it, so delivery was not so fluid. All in all, not a bad set. Could have been better, though.
How are you guys doing tonight?
How are you ladies doing tonight? Are any of you ladies single? Any of you ladies single with a grizzly bear fetish? I can help you act out your camping fantasy. All I ask for in return is your picnic basket. My back is a shag carpet of manliness. I have one of those sticky rollers to give to people after they hug me. Being hairy sucks in heat like this, but it has benefits. At least when someone makes fun of my weight, I can say, "I'm not fat, I'm fluffy!" and actually mean it. I also make money on the side as a model. Apparently, when I don't shave, I'm a dead ringer for Bigfoot.
I have no idea why I'm up here. I always hated talking to crowds. They say it helps to picture the audience in their underwear. This really depends on the audience. If I'm standing in front of a crowd of hot women, I'm going to need a podium to hide a package. But I'm talking to a bar, and that's completely different. You, sir, don't ever wear a thong. (This last section did not go as well as I thought it might. People seemed to like the first section, though.)
I used to take stuff apart as a kid. Anyone else do that? Sometimes I'd even put it back together again. I'm always curious to know how something works, and sometimes when I'm done, it still does. Years ago, my dad had a cellular phone. Now he has a Motorola paper weight. He's still got it, and I don't know why. It's not like it was the most thoughtful Father's day gift ever. "Here, Dad! I got you a brick!" It beat getting a card. What man has ever wanted a card? I got a card in the mail one time, and I thought to myself, "next time, could you just send me the four bucks instead?" I wish I could still get away with making cards for various occasions. Not only would it be cheaper, but I could gradually get rid of all the glue, glitter, and macaroni I've stockpiled over the years. Actually, that's a lie. Do I look like a guy who would let perfectly good pasta go to waste? (I completely butchered the delivery of this bit. Kinda forgot where I was because I was paying more attention to the audience than to my material.)
People always tell me "it's the thought that counts." Bullshit. When was the last time you heard someone say "thank you" when you told them you thought about getting them a present? (This didn't make it.)
I have always been inventive. I built my first laptop from scratch. It was very stable -- never once crashed on me. It was made of two pieces of plywood and a door hinge. I drew in the screen and keyboard with marker. It had its drawbacks, though. That thing was so SLOW! I could only get Wi-Fi at a lumber yard. And it nearly caught fire when I tried to plug it in. Actually, that's a lie, too. You can't force a sheet of plywood into an electrical socket. That's what thin metal wire is for.
You see, many years ago in my naive tinkering days, I built a lamp and used the thinnest wire possible, jamming the ends into a 110-volt outlet. I didn't know about Ohm's Law which basically says that with lots of voltage and not enough resistance, you get a lot of current. Lots of current manifests as heat. Lots of heat manifests as FIRE! For those of you keeping score, it's fire: 1, Grandma's living room rug: 0. While I was busy running around 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. (Drop the bit about Ohm's law or at least shorten it, drop the "keeping score" bit, and shorten this story.)
(The following two bits didn't make it because of time.)
I love my bicycle, but I need to become less stupid. I nearly got hit by a Corvette the other day. Now, I've actually been tagged by a Volvo before, and quite frankly, getting pancaked by a Corvette seems like a far classier method of becoming a road stain. For example: If I tell a friend, "I got hit by a Volvo," I get the usual response: "That's nice." If I tell the same friend, "I got hit by a Corvette," the response is remarkably different: "Really? What color?" "Red. Dripping red. With a touch of pancreas."
I am all for gay marriage. This is despite my initial position on marriage itself which is a topic for a less humorous discussion. I believe that everyone, regardless of gender preference, should have the right to experience the same level of hell that law permits straight couples. And if anyone out there really still believes that being gay is wrong and that those who are should be punished, I propose a solution: Give gay people marriage. Just don't give them divorce.
I once had someone proposition me over the Internet. She asked if I would pound her vag. I told her, "Sure! Let me just get my sledgehammer." I will crush that pussy into gravel.
A friend was throwing a party, and I tried to surprise him with one of those giant cakes that had a stripper inside. Nobody told me you were supposed to take the stripper out before baking it. It was still delicious. Though there was something about it that tasted a little fishy. I think it might have been crabs. (Lose the last bit.)
(Closed out normally.)
Alright! I managed to cover ladies, shag carpets, stage fright, geekiness, fires, bicycling, divorce, vagina destruction, strippers, and baby cannibalism. Hopefully, I can remember all of this.
In retrospect, I really only covered ladies, shag carpets, stage fright, fires, vagina destruction, and strippers. And I didn't remember all of it, so delivery was not so fluid. All in all, not a bad set. Could have been better, though.