Well tie me to the bed and leave me there for 72 hours straight because you forgot we were supposed to have sex and then left for a yoga retreat, happy Friday to you!
That would be an unfortunate set of circumstances. Could you imagine? If someone was so airheaded that right before you were about to engage in coitus, they remember they have to go on a yoga retreat and in a mad dash to get ready they forget to untie you from the bed and now you’re stuck there with no food or water or means of contact. Not an ideal way to start your Monday, that’s for sure.
I don’t know what I’m saying. Don’t mind me. Man, the coffee shop sure got busy all of a sudden. Good thing I got here early. I didn’t go to bed until 1:30 last night and got up at 6:30 so we’ll see how this goes. Am tired. Can confirm. I hope I start hallucinating on green tea, that would be pretty neat.
Oh speaking of hallucinogenics, I saw my favorite musician live in concert on Tuesday. I didn’t do hallucinogenics, but Matt Maeson’s most popular song is called “Hallucinogenics.” I’m glad he’s finally becoming more popular. Sometimes all it takes is a good old fashioned song about drugs.
I didn’t even know he was in town until the night before the concert. A fellow comedian posted about it on their Instagram story and I immediately pooped myself because I thought I missed my chance to see him. Alas! There were still tickets. Is it grammatically correct to type “alas” without an exclamation point? It looks so wrong. It just looks like atlas.
Those two words kind of fit each other, atlas and alas. I feel like the last time people really said “Alas!” was about the same time they were using atlases. Oof, that’s a gross looking word; atlases. Atlantis. At last, he said “Alas!” when he discovered Atlantis using his atlas.
Some smart people say you’re more creative when you’re tired. I actually agree. I think there’s science and stuff behind it, too. It lowers whatever right-side bullshit in your brain or something and allows you to open the doors to doobie land. It’s definitely not helping my vocabulary. I just used the words “bullshit,” “something,” “whatever,” and “doobie land” in the same sentence. Well, at least we showed up.
That’s step one to anything, really. Show up. Just go, man. Just get on your tricycle and go. I’m gonna poop myself, be right back. Oh God both of the stalls are occupied. I don’t have much time. This is not a trivial matter, you can’t give a man with inflammatory bowel disease a green tea and occupy all the stalls in the given location he resides and expect everything to just be FINE. IT’S NOT FINE. NOTHING IS FINE.
Except that one girl at the comedy show last night, she was fine as hell. I’ve been talking about my inflammatory bowel disease on stage at the beginning of my set now and my jokes have been hitting a lot harder because the audience likes me more but I don’t think it’s gonna help me with the ladies. That’s okay, if you’re doing comedy to get some clam you’re not doing it for the right reasons.
Well, actually that’s debatable. You’re not doing it for the right comedic reasons. The pursuit of clam is a great reason to do just about anything within the bounds of the US legal system. If a man does something entirely questionable and you’re like “dude, why the hell did you just try to launch a collectible edition model car into the sky with a $200 firework?” and his response is “oh I was trying to get some pussy,” you can’t really blame him for that.
I know it sounds demeaning to refer to a woman as “clam,” but it makes me laugh every time for some reason, and that makes it okay. This is my excuse for everything. “Yeah, but it was funny…”
That’s a weird thing about comedy these days; people are really adept at removing intention from things and just making assumptions based on the words, alone. You can make almost any joke sound terrible if you pretend it’s not a joke because the whole point of a joke is that it’s not serious.
Like if I walked on stage and said “boy that Hitler, he sure was a good guy…” it’s obvious that I’m being ironic. The joke is that Hitler was so obviously not a good guy. But you could quote me saying that and put it in news article and try to convince the audience that I’m actually a supporter of a Hitler. “Your honor, it’s written right here. When speaking of Hitler, he said “he was a good guy.” And then everyone in the court room gasps and says “oh no!” Then the kool-aid man bursts through the wall and goes “Oh yeah! OH YEAH!”
I do find it kind of funny when you have to remind the audience that you’re telling jokes. The setting should be enough. You’d think the mere fact of being at a comedy show with a comedian on stage would be sufficient. Bill Burr said it best. He said something like, “everyone’s fine with you telling jokes, but then all of a sudden you get to whatever their shit is and now all of a sudden it’s like you’re making statements.”
“I didn’t like that. I’ve decided he’s being serious now.” – 40 year-old white woman in the audience with over 3,000 Yelp reviews in the last year.
Anyways, I’m gonna try and write some jokes before this green tea wears off and the economy collapses.
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2 thoughts on “I honestly don’t remember what any of this is about.”
Ha! “Clam.” I’ll add that to my erotica lexicon. Thanks for making me laugh. Karla
You could start a gathering for proud women called Clamicon.