Moving sucks

#OldFolksHateLoudButCan'tHear

I don’t know if there’s much in this world I dislike more than moving. The process just infuriates me.

I’m not talking about actually moving — walking, working out, dancing — that’s not all that bad. (Although I’m not much of dancer unless I’m blasted beyond the point of having feelings.) I’m talking about relocating.

Loading up a truck. Unloading a truck. Loading up a truck. Unloading a truck.

That’s about my last three nights in a nutshell.

The happy part of all this? I get to do it all again in about three weeks! Woohoo!

The August move won’t be that bad, if you consider a cross-country drive not that bad. I can’t wait to arrive in LA, though, and breathe in that delicious smog-filled air. I can almost taste the pollution-induced phlegm now. Ahhhh.

Anyhow, I’m basically blogging because I haven’t done any writing, other than that which was required for work, since July 5.

I started a blog after my last standup act. But it turned into an old person-bashing blog, so I decided to scrap it.

For those not familiar, I participated in the West Branch Gong Show July 8.

After about the first three acts, which included people either 10 and under or 85 and over, I began to realize that I, being 27 and all, was a little out of place.

But I got on stage and did my thing. It was going well, and I was about 20 seconds from being done, when some elderly woman, not the designated “gonger,” mind you, actually got up out of her seat, walked forward, took the gong hammer from the gonger, and hit the gong.

Looking back it was kind of funny. I was angry at first, as about 15 family members, friends and co-workers were there to watch me.

I discussed the experience with my buddy Luke. We decided that I was probably too loud for Ethel, or whatever her name was.

Which is weird to me. Old people hate loud noises. But they also can’t hear noises at regular volume. It’s one of life’s weird misnomers. (I don’t know if this is the correct way to use this word, but screw it.)

As Luke and I were having this conversation about the mean old lady, who didn’t realize that I HAD JUST SUFFERED THROUGH 45 MINUTES OF LITTLE ANNOYING KIDS SINGING CAMP SONGS, we happened to be stuck behind two groups of golden golfers.

By golden, I mean old as shit. (I had to use shit, since I didn’t use a swear word in this entry up to now.)

All in all, though, I still feel that the gong show wasn’t totally meaningless. The people there who were my age, and a few others who were slightly older, told me they thought I was pretty funny and did well. Also, I realized that just because I have multiple ways to work a joke, I don’t have to use them all.

Especially if there’s old people around.

Other than that, I’ve been coming up more bits here and there. My lifelong homies Jason and Ryan, whom (who) I will be moving to Cali with in August, will be in Michigan soon, and I can’t wait.

The ride west will be fun with those guys, and we have some plans to shoot some videos during the trip. Watch for them on the youtube page.

Oh yeah. Here's part of the gong show act.

Reflecting on Independence Day

#PatrickHenryWasKindOfADick

It was a long weekend. For nearly all of it, I was in a state of overstuffedness.

Let’s review how I spent Friday, July 1, through Monday, July 4.

Days I consumed alcohol: 2

I went to the West Branch beer tent Friday, and drank at a birthday party Sunday. I don’t believe I drank at all Saturday, although Sunday was the only day I didn’t have to work. Exhaustion is a hell of a way to stay sober.

Days I worked: 2

Saturday and Monday. Enough said about that.

Days I ate until I felt like I was going to puke: 3

Saturday at my mom’s house I think I ate for three straight hours. Sunday I ate lunch at my parents, then went to aforementioned birthday party, where I ate again. Monday I was with the family again, eating and eating and eating.

Times I forced alcohol down even though I felt like there was no room left in my poor stomach: 2

Both times I drank I felt like I couldn’t possibly fit anything else inside my internals. Yet the Budweiser was flowing. Is that healthy?

Times I got legit exercise: 1

Saturday before going to take pics of a parade for work, I went to the gym. Needless to say anything positive it did for my body was erased.

Times I watched fireworks: 2

I covered the Skidway Lake fireworks show Saturday night (I got some pretty sweet pics, if I say so myself). Monday, after working in the morning, I stopped at my friends’ house. We lit off some snakes off the porch. It was epic. It looked like the stoop was shitting upward. We also tried to light off two bottle rockets. The first one was just stuck in the ground, (I’m pretty sure that’s how it showed how to do it on the box. Oh, it’s not? They’re supposed to be in bottles? I get it now.) while the second one was in a can. The first one whistled and popped … but didn’t move. The second one was a dud.

I can only imagine what I would have felt like had it not been for the times I worked during the weekend. It’s probable that the “Days I consumed alcohol” would have been greater.

I did manage to write some new standup bits, too, actually. Monday morning, I arrived for an event I was covering TWO HOURS EARLY (I could go on a rant here …). Unfortunately, the event was too far away from anywhere that I could drive to and not punch myself in the nuts for wasting gas. But I made the best of it.

The material, I think, was quite funny. It covers something I learned while getting a physical in high school, an awkward racial moment in college, and foreign doctors.

Or, as you may call them, doctors. What other kinds are there?

So, when it comes down to it, I think I celebrated Independence Day in about as American of fashion as one could. For instance, I covered many of the staples of modern Americanism.

1. Capitalism: I worked during the holiday (pictures at a parade, fireworks show and kids fishing derby), and worked on my own side project (standup).

2. Obesity: I don’t want to look at a hot dog for at least six weeks.

3. Alcoholism: True I didn’t consume to excess, but I consumed nonetheless.

4. Greed/gluttony: Did I need to eat until I felt like I was going to puke? Hey, it’s a holiday! The founding fathers (Is that supposed to be capitalized? Sue me.) fought for these rights (Interesting side note: Patrick Henry, who proclaimed “Give me Liberty or give me death!” received six slaves as a wedding gift in 1754. His wife also went crazy around the time he made the speech, and he confined her to a basement room. He wasn’t fond of liberty for others.)

5. Explosives: Fireworks.

6. Stupidity: Snakes and bottle rockets “launched” from the ground.

That about sums it up. All in all, it was a pretty rad Fourth of July.

Now I’m going to cry into my pillow because I used the word rad.