Prove It

It’s weird when people ask what I do and I tell them I do comedy. I think it’s the only profession you can have that actually requires proof from other people.

“You’re a comedian? Say something funny.”

I highly doubt they do this with everyone they meet.

“So, you’re a doctor, huh? Take out my appendix.”

No fair.

I’ll get you, Jim Gaffigan

About two and a half years ago I wrote a blog about a funny idea I had for my stand-up comedy. I refused to mention what it was about lest one of you online freaks steal my idea.

Well, it happened. I squandered it and sat on it and did nothing with it and wouldn’t you know it, someone else came up with the idea and put it on their last CD and did it well.

Granted, he didn’t do it exactly how I had it in mind — we both go in different directions — but they start off similarly enough that people will probably now think I’m stealing from Jim Gaffigan. I’m not. And I didn’t.

But doggonit anyhow. Oh well. That’s what I get for hiding it under a bushel.

Finding “Lost”

Sarah and I have been watching the third season of “Lost” on DVD. I’ve seen it already; she hasn’t. It’s been fun watching her react to all of the twists and turns and remembering how I reacted to each revelation as it unfolded. (Unfortunately, she read the recent issue of Entertainment Weekly which featured “Lost” on the cover and, in the first 2 paragraphs, found out some surprises she didn’t yet know about. Whoops.)

The best thing about watching Sarah watch “Lost” is the vast array of comments — many times very contradictory — she yells at the TV. Observe:

“Save him!”
“Kill him!”
“What a b!”
“Go, Jin! Awesome kick!”
“Come on! You kill people for a living!”
“This show makes my head hurt.”
“I’m too tense. I need to stop.”
“Wanna watch another one?”
“He’s going to die in this one, isn’t he?”
“I always wanted to kick like that.”
“I don’t get why they don’t just get along with each other.”
“Kill him!!!!!!”

Old People: Not Funny

The last couple of days I have been doing work for people who are older than me. By older than me, I mean in their 60s. Siding houses, wallpapering, what-have-you. And in both cases they have annoyed me with their attempts at being funny. What makes it worse is that they both have the exact same material.

Here’s the basic premise: They will hover over me and watch me work and then make comments like “Gee, you sure are working slowly” or “Where did your dad get such horrible help” or “Just because it’s 5:00 doesn’t mean you can go home. You young people don’t know what it is to work.”

I know they’re just trying to be funny, but the thing is, they’re failing at it. Instead of using delivery that is light and friendly, they say it in their I-Can-Say-Whatever-I-Really-Feel-If-I-Pretend-I’m-Joking voice. And after 2-1/2 weeks of hearing it over and over and over again it has gone from “not funny” to “really not funny” to “slightly annoying” to “ready to walk off the job at any moment.”

If you know me, then you know I like to joke around. That’s not what I have a problem with. I just hate it when I’m out in the sun working and they’re standing behind me, beer in hand, and making smart-aleck comments to someone they don’t even know.

Maybe it’s because Dad told them I’m into comedy and they’re just trying to be funny. Maybe that’s how everyone joked in the ’50s. But you’re paying me to work on your house, not be funny, and for you my funny isn’t free.

Only At Christmastime

Last night at the annual Placencia Christmas Eve gathering I was sitting on the couch with my cousins Glen and Rich. One of my little cousins, around 2 years old, entered dressed in her holiday best.

Another cousin began to gush, saying “Oh, you always look so beautiful at Christmastime!” to which Glen promptly quipped, “Nice. So what are you saying about the rest of the year?”

“Well,” I added, “Everyone knows in June she looks like hell.”

Merry Christmas to everyone who only looks good during this festive time.