MARK SWEENEY

Dear Diary 2007

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2/1/07
 
Dear Diary;
 
Well howdy doo to you.  It's been awhile.  It's now February of '07 and I haven't seen you since you November.  Have I been doing nothing?  Well, no, not nothing, but nothing really worth writing about.  I'm still not sure I have anything to write about.  I did some gigs, did some traveling, spent some time with the family over the holidays.
 
I did a couple of Bob and Tom gigs up in Wisconsin in early January.  How big of a puss have I become?  I flew to Green Bay and rented a car instead of driving up there.  I didn't want to have to drive in snow storms.  I've done it before and by God those days are over.  I don't have the patience to drive 450 miles through a snow or ice storm.  That is a young man's game.  I can't take the stress of white outs and ice patches and holding on the steering wheel so hard you leave imprints.  Naturally it was 40* and quite lovely the weekend I was up there.  Oh well. 
 
I got an email from someone who saw the show in Wisconsin Rapids.  He thanked me for coming to his "shitty little town."  I don't understand people who hate where they live.  Why don't you move?  I saw roads leading into town, I'm assuming there are roads leading out.  I do that all the time, if I'm somewhere I don't like, I leave.  God bless America.
 
The Super Bowl is next Sunday.  Go Bears.  I'm still pissed about the Indy fans being such crybaby's when I was there 2 years ago.  I hope the Colts lose just so those people really have something to cry about.  Plus, my roots are in Chicago.  I haven't watched any stuff about the Super Bowl yet, I just can't take the hype.  It's gotten too big for me.  Reporters are asking the same questions they ask every year.  "How does it feel to be playing in the Super Bowl?"  Shut your pie hole.  How do you think it feels?  Blah blah blah.
 
Maytag is looking for a new spokesperson.  They put out a cattle call for the role.  For those unfamiliar with a cattle call, it's an audition that is open to anyone.  And I mean anyone.  Anybody that can get there can audition.  Anybody who has a camcorder can make an audition tape and send it in.  So I did.  I'm not sure I'll be what they're looking for, but it will be funny.
 
Last Comic Standing is having auditions again.  I told myself I wouldn't go through that clusterf**k again, but I may.  They're supposed to be doing it different this time.  They'll actually have judges that know something about comedy this time.  We'll see.
 
OK- that's enough for now.  I'll try to keep this up.  No promises, but I'll try.  For now, God's speed little ones.
 
I hope everyone has a great Groundhog Day.
 
2/2/07
 
Dear Diary-
 
What is wrong with the people who try out for American Idol?  Get a clue.  I've never seen such a group of disillusioned people in my life.  What the hell are you doing here?  Have you ever seen the show?  As soon as you show up in a banana suit...it's over.  I can't believe some of the people who try out for this show.  It's hard to believe none of them have friends who can tell them; no dude, don't do it, your voice sucks.  A lot of these people are finding out it's hard to bypass paying your dues and jumping right to the top. I love the people that cry if they don't make it.  What are you crying for?  You can't sing for shit.  These dipshits are putting all their faith into this one audition.  Welcome to reality.  Show business is hard and brutal.  If you break down from one audition...stick to your day job.  I think they should put up a sign at these auditions saying "just because your mom says you can sing...doesn't make it so."  Unfortunately, the funny parts of the show are coming to a close and that's when I quit watching.  Too bad, they should make a show of nothing but bad auditions.   Now that's comedy.
 
2/5/07
 
Dear Diary-
 
Da Bears lost.  That sucks.  Oh well.  Life goes on.  I thought Grossman played poorly and it's hard to win if the QB isn't playing up to snuff.  The worst part is: football is over.  I thought the commercials were pretty lame too.  A couple of funny ones, but nothing special.
 
Here's something I almost never do: complain about a company, I usually say f**k it and move on.  I'm the kind of guy who will pay money so I don't have to hassle with something.  Some call it lazy, I call it creative investment.  If, to me; spending the money is worth preventing me from having to hassle with something, I'll spend the money.  I guess it's just part of my mantra, you know: keep it simple.  Spending some cash to keep my life simple, I tell you man, it's just the way I roll.  But in this case I decided to take a stand.  I was a Sprint customer, was being the key word.  When I was at the World Series, I took a picture and emailed it to a friend.  Sprint charged me $57.  Wow, that seems a little excessive.  $57, to email a picture?  There must be some mistake, I didn't email myself, I emailed a picture of myself.  This has to be just a merry mix up.  I'll get it straightened out in no time.  Not so fast there Mr. picture emailer, the charge was legitimate, says the Sprint customer service clone.  I couldn't get anything accomplished, so I left Sprint.  It cost me $150 to disconnect early, but it was worth every cent, their company sucks and I let them know it.  I sent a letter, which I've never done before.  I know it doesn't matter, but sometimes a man has to stick to his principles, and those principles sometimes require a letter.
 
In retrospect, I did actually send another letter recently.  I don't know what's come over me.  Am I becoming a cranky old fart?  Or have I just had enough?  What a rebel.  I sent a letter to the Kansas City Star about the Chiefs fans at the Rams game that were yelling out shit during the National Anthem. I told them to give the National Anthem the respect it deserves. They published it too.  So I'm actually a published writer if I wanted to put that on my resume.
 
Anyway, Sprint sucks and I told them I was going to tell people about it on my website, so there you are.  I fulfilled my part of the bargain.  
 

2/14/07

Dear Diary-

First of all, I’d like to wish you a Happy Valentines Day. A special day for lovers, or people in love, or people who want to be in love. It’s just a lovely day, full of love. It’s supposed to be a celebration of St. Valentine who died in 269 A.D. Emperor Claudius II had banned marriage thinking that single men would join his army. St. Valentine kept marrying them and was jailed. He had a crush on the jailer’s daughter and send her a note signed “from your Valentine.” That was all it took, next thing you know, the card companies picked up on it and promoted the hell out of it and now we have the celebrated “Valentines Day.”

I always give the little lady what she wants on Valentines Day, I take down the Christmas tree. Oh, I know how to treat the ladies. I usually draw the line at the Christmas lights though. We had them up for Jesus’ birthday, by God we can have them up for the resurrection. (That’s Easter for you non-Catholics)

I spent the day on the road. Nice. The day after a major Midwest blizzard, and I’m hitting the road. I left at 4:30 a.m. and arrived in Detroit at just about 5:30 p.m. I saw the sun come up and go down. It was 9* when I left and 15* when I arrived: it was a cold day. I don’t usually do long drives in the winter because of past experience, but I guess I wasn’t thinking. I saw 62 cars in the ditch on way here. 62. That’s a lot of cars going off the road. They were littering the road like the carcasses of some post apocalyptic event. Empty shells of transport. Dead metal. Cold steel. It makes you wonder what happened? Are the bodies still inside? Has anyone ransacked the car looking for survival supplies? Should we take the tires to burn for heat? Will we survive the aftermath of this catastrophe?

“Wait a minute slugger, don’t go off too far. It wasn’t an apocalyptic event, it was a snow and ice storm. There aren’t any bodies, we don’t need to burn tires, just get on with the story.”

Ok.

I guess some people don’t get the fact that snow packed on top of ice is slippery. Very slippery. You can slide right off of it. Why? Because it’s slippery, that’s why. I spent the first 300 miles driving in single file at 30 mph. It‘s what some may call “stressful.” You can’t take your eyes off the road for a second, if you get your tires onto the ice, all hell could break loose. Then you’ll be in the ditch with the rest of the carcasses. So you stay focused, granted, it’s a long time to stay focused, but the alternatives demand it. There are some bright spots during a drive like that. Occasionally, you’ll get some guy driving in the left lane going way too fast. I just want to tell them, “hey, you’re going way too fast for the road conditions.” Then 10 minutes later you see them down in the ditch. “Ha, ha, I told you.” What a dumb ass. There is a reason we’re all over here in single file, it’s the only place with any traction. Just because you have an SUV, doesn’t make you impervious to weather conditions. I’m curious, why do you think all these people are crawling along in single file on a highway? Do you think we’re afraid? Do you think we’re stupid? Do you think we have no where to go?

But I made it, had a great show and life and love goes on.

2/16/07

Dear Diary-

Have you heard?  Anna Nicole Smith died.  I'm being comical, of course you heard.  They've been covering it 24/7.  It's well past the point of absurdity.  President's Ford and Reagan didn't get this much coverage when they died, and they were presidents.  This has to be a media generated interest.  I just can't believe there are that many people in this country that are obsessed with Anna Nicole.  The mainstream media in this country has hit an all time low.  I know, I know it's hard to believe they could crawl any lower, but they have.  It's almost an embarrassment to the people of this country the kind of crap they dish out to us every day.

Here you guys, here's another big, steamy pile of crap.  Enjoy.  It's information no one needs.  We'll fill you full of useless, mindless shit that we think you'll want to know.  It's like the coverage of the war.  The media gives us shit.  Nothing positive is ever reported about this war.  I've been to Iraq and there are plenty of positive things going on, most of which we'll never hear about.  The bullshit they feed us on a daily basis is a complete disservice to our Armed Forces that are there.

I know this isn't funny, but I'm at wit's end.  I just had to let off a little steam.  Otherwise I may show up somewhere with an uzi and start taking names.

Here's something else that's pissing me off.  These people who are offended by...well anything.  There were several groups that have piped up about the Super Bowl commercials, which resulted in the "offending" ads being removed.  The snickers commercial where the guys kissed and then starting pulling our their chest hair to prove their "manliness."  Gay groups were offended because they said it was homophobic.  Tough shit, it's a commercial, get over it.  The commercial where the robot building cars had a dream about committing suicide offended people who were "suicide survivors."  Which, apparently, aren't actually suicide survivors, they just know someone who killed themselves.  I know it's tragic, but again, tough shit, get over it, it's a tv commercial.  People were even offended by Princes' halftime show.  When he was playing in silhouette, some thought the shadows were phallic in nature and were offended.  F**k you, he's playing a guitar.  Get a clue.  It's the continuation of the pussification of America.  Political correctness has brought this country to it's knees.  We're afraid to piss off anyone.  What the hell? I remember a time when if something offended you, you didn't watch it anymore and moved on with your life.  There are just too many people, too many nationalities, too many cultures to please everyone.  You can't please everyone, it's never been possible.  Quit trying.  This is a democracy, majority rules.  Period.  Majority rules. 

This immigration thing falls under these thoughts as well.  I know a lot of people in this country don't speak English...but we do.  It's the language of this country.  If you want to live here, please make some kind of effort to adapt to our culture.  Don't try to make us change for you.  You came here, not the other way around.  I lived in Japan for a year and you know what they speak?  Japanese.  If you wanted to communicate with the locals, you had to learn some of their language.  Simple.

Something else about the immigration thing.  If the illegal immigrants want to convince us that they want to be Americans, maybe they should be waving the U.S. Flag at their little protests.  If your country and flag is so great, what the hell are you doing here?

OK babies, that's it for now.  I need to take a break.  Talk to you later.

2/19/07

Dear Diary-

Wow- I'm seemed a little irritable in that last entry.  Perhaps some one was in need of a nap. 

Well, I'm back from Detroit.  A much easier drive coming home.  Not much new to report, I got some new socks today.  Before you start thinking "socks? please tell me you aren't going to tell me a story about buying socks? I don't think I could take it."  It's not a story per se, it's just what I did today.  I seem to be going through 5 or 6 pairs of white socks a week.  Not losing them in the dryer, that's a story for another day.  Just wearing holes in them in the ball of the foot area.  I think I found out why.  I moved into a place with hard wood floors and I slide around instead of walking.  Every time I round a corner, I do a little dance and slide around it.  I found myself doing James Brown dance moves thinking "I love these floors."  Hence, the wearing thin of the socks.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at Target and saw the bags of white socks and grabbed a few.  I found out at home why they were cheap.  I put them on and found that the seam across the top of the toes was so knarly, I couldn't wear them.  This wasn't just a seam, it was a snake like knot of bulbous uncomfortableness.  The only way I can wear them is to turn them inside out.  So now, at least, I've got some sliding, dancing socks I can use without worry.

This time I went to Macy's.  Ooh, la la.  Mr. Fancy Boy.  I asked this employee where the socks were and he replies "Men's hosiery is on the second floor."  Men's hosiery?  Is that really what the fancy boy's call socks.  Hosiery?   No man, I want some socks, that's all.  No hosiery.  Women wear hose, men wear socks.  That's just the way I roll.

Here the excitement ends.  For now.  I may be in the market for some new tennies soon.  Stay close.

2/22/07

Dear Diary-

Wow, what a day.  Yesterday it got up to 50*.  That's not too bad for February.  Some golf buddies and I decided to play golf today because it was getting up to 60*.  That's great except we teed off at 9 a.m. when of course the temperature was 38*.  Yes, yes, it seems that the warmest part of the day comes in the afternoon, not the FIRST THING IN THE MORNING!  I don't know what we were thinking.  Good thing I had on my warm toasty clothes.  It did finally hit about 52*, but it was well after I had made it home and had some lunch.  Perhaps next time we'll be a little more weather saavy.  But at least we were outside.  Praise Jesus.

 

3/2/07

Dear Diary-

Well it looks like it's been awhile...again.  After that last ramble, I thought I should take a break.  Well, it didn't work.  Anna is still in the news.  I love the teasers now, "coming up, new, shocking news about Anna Nicole."  I'm sorry, I don't think anything about this case is shocking anyone anymore.  What?  The daddy is actually a black midget prince from Portugal somewhere.  Really?  Doesn't even surprise me, much less shock me.  Do you know what will shock me?  When I hear the words, "this is the last Anna story."  Speaking of Anna (aren't I the hypocrite) what is with her mom?   I'm not sure there has ever been someone who I just wanted to walk up to and say "GO AWAY."  There's just something about her that bugs me.  At the funeral, they showed a clip (which was a beautiful touch by the way, filming the funeral) in which she was shoveling dirt over the coffin because "no one else would."  I would like to know what the f**k is going on in the Bahamas?  I've been to funerals before and everyone throws in a handful of dirt.  You don't pick up a shovel and start heaving loads of dirt in, they have people to do that, I'm almost sure that's included in the price of the service.  The "newscaster" said that she threw in 19-20 shovelfuls.  I guess someone was counting. To be honest with you I'm not sure why there was even a shovel around during the service, seems a little tacky to me.  But then, considering the people involved...

 

3/8/07

Dear Diary-

I did Bob and Tom this morning, did you hear?

"How could I hear, I'm a diary"

What? You guys don't have radios?

"No, we usually sit around and talk philosophy"

Wow, that's cool, I didn't know that a diary could speak.

"We can't, which is why I didn't listen to the show or talk philosophy, I can't do any of that shit, I just record, that's it, just record, get it?"

Yeah, OK.  Anyway, the show was fun.  John Heep, the guy from the Hemi commercials was there along with one of my favs, Heywood Banks.  Hey, would banks be open today?  That's how he got his name.  Get it?  Ha ha.  Not much new really, I'm in Dayton and had Skyline Chili for lunch.   Ohio is the only place I've ever found it.  Spaghetti noodles covered in chili, covered in cheese.  An absolute delightful treat that will probably be doing me great harm in the next couple of hours. 

3/19/07

Dear Diary-

I just got back from Erie,  JR's.  Great club.  We were supposed to get 3 inches of snow on Friday,  over a foot fell.  Apparently, they aren't any better at predicting the weather in Erie than they are in St. Louis.  We get weather reports like, it will be partly cloudy and also partly sunny, that covers the clouds.  There may be some rain showers in the late morning, turning to a downpour of up to 3 inches.  Or not.  It's hard to say.  It depends on what the clouds do.  We may see temperature of 80, or if not, then only about 55.   We'll  have to see what the clouds do.   Weather predictions, you can set your clock to them. 

I flew again, my favorite.  I found another group of people we can taser.  The dumb asses that have to go through the metal detector a couple of times,   BZZZ.  "Oops, my watch."  BZZ.  "Oops, my car keys."  BZZZ. "Oops my belt."  Idiot.  "I have to take my shoes OFF?"  It's amazing, did this clown not see everyone if front of him taking their shoes off?  "What do you mean I can't take this half gallon of OJ on board?   Hey numb nuts.  It's been over five years since 9/11, get with the f**king program.  Watch the news once in awhile, pick up a paper, find out what the hell is going on in your surroundings.  Pay attention, is that too much to ask?  Just pay attention.

3/23/07

Dear Diary-

Sometimes I just don’t know. What is it about a free continental breakfast that sends people into a frenzy. Is it the free food? Is it eating in the conference room? Is it the close contact with strangers first thing in the morning? What? What turns people into idiots when there’s free breakfast? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen people standing in front of the waffle maker, staring at it while the alarm sounds. Hey you goofball, turn it over, that’s what the beeping means, turn it over. That cooking spray is there for a reason as well. It keeps the batter from sticking to the iron. If you used it, you wouldn’t be standing there right now trying to scrap your waffle out with a fork. You’re holding up the line, get a clue. The indecision gets me too. Just pick something and move on. No one’s life depends on what type of muffin you take, grab one and move on.

Another thing. This isn’t the last meal you’ll be getting. Lunch will be available to you some where along the line or the road or whatever is you travel on. You don’t have to take enough food to feed a family of four. Take what you need and move on, leave something for the others. Today some lady and her two daughters spent at least 15 minutes preparing their meal to bring back to their rooms. Fifteen minutes! They had trays of biscuits and gravy and cereal and doughnuts and muffins and toast and bagels and juices and milks and yogurts and banana’s and anything they could squeeze on to the tray. Come on ladies. You’re not being stranded here. This isn’t the plains of Darfur, it’s Davenport, Iowa, there’s food all over the place.

3/28/07

Dear Diary-

Have I told you lately that I love you?

I made it back from the Last Comic Standing auditions. I didn’t make the cut. I thought I would, but I didn’t. Can life go on? Yes, I think it can. I had a shitty audition. Pretty plain and simple. When the opportunity arises, you’ve got one shot to shine, and shine I did not. In my defense, I drove 650 miles and had been up for almost 30 hours, so I may not have been my sharpest. I did get about 20 minutes of shut eye around 3 a.m. but it was laying in the gutter in front of the club and I didn’t find it all that restful. I couldn’t get a spot so I had to stand in line. I got there around 5 p.m. on Monday for a Tuesday morning show. That’s a lot of time to kill. “The line” is usually for people who have no connections or aren’t well known enough to get an invite. Apparently, I’m in that category. In line near me was a guy wearing a beanie, complete with a propeller and “the twins” a couple of Cro-Magnons from Minnesota somewhere. These guys were a hoot, for awhile, then it was just time for them to go. Far away. Who tries to start fights in a line of comedians? The twins, that’s who.

I was number 33 out of 289. You get a good spot when you show up 17 hours before showtime. Most of the overnighters brought chairs and blankies etc. to ward off the night. Monte Allen brought a tent, nice touch. It got cold too. It was in the 70’s during the day, but when that sun went down, it took the heat with it. The club is only about a block from the Mississippi River and there was a mighty wind a blowin’ that night. It comes down the river in the night. Snaking it’s way from the Canadian tundra, bringing with it a dark chill that holds the souls of a thousand dead Inuit. Reaching, grasping, chasing you down. And when it catches you, there is no tickling, there is no love, there’s just that frozen spear driven to places deep inside.

When I awoke from my nap, I knew it had to be close to 5 or 6 a.m. Awesome, only a couple of more hours. I looked at my phone and it’s 3:45, well that’s not good. That didn’t kill off any time and I’m still tired. About 6 a.m. the little store next to the club opened up, they sold coffee and breakfast food. About 8, I got a cup o’ joe. That’s how long the line was, not to mention, behind the counter was one guy and his 10 year old son, trying to get coffee and breakfast for 300 people who have been out on the street all night. The kid was ringing shit up and the old man is cooking food. Slow process. I, of course, didn’t wait in line. I’ve got my principles. I waited until the line got down to 5, then I got in. By God, I was ready for some coffee by then. It’s almost 9, we should be starting soon. They take the first group in about 9:30, my group was called at about noon. The rest of the time, we just stood there at the front door. Just standing there. Waiting to go in. Standing there waiting. Boring? Yes, a little. It was amazing to see and be a part of, all these people just waiting for their shot at grabbing the golden ring. Which of course is going by at 600 mph. Good luck to ya. Finally our group was called, numbers 29-34. That’s us. It’s now noon and they’re on number 34, I don’t think they’ll get to see everyone. Guy number 289 might as well go home. We’re lead downstairs and get in another line, more waiting. That’s cool, I’ve gotten pretty good at waiting. Then we hear Ant, one of the judges, scream “get out.” Uh oh. That doesn’t sound promising. I here “next” and head in. The stage is to the left, the three judges are sitting in front of the stage and there’s a camera running. I do my shit, I'm told no, and head out. That was quick. I’m glad I came. I found it incredibly fulfilling.

I was in no mood to stand around and find out what happened later. I couldn’t bear to hang around as one of the “didn’t make it’s” so I took off. That’s right, after being up for almost 30 hours, I headed home. I probably wasn’t thinking about the 600+ miles I had to go. I was embarrassed and pissed off, so I drove home. Talk about dwelling. I went over the whole thing a thousand times, which is stupid. I’ve always been pretty good about letting shit go. Especially if there’s nothing you can do about it. But this was a great opportunity and I was more than ready for it. I’m as funny as anyone who made it, I just couldn’t pull the trigger after no sleep. Lesson learned. I got home about 10 o’clock, how’s that for teaching myself a lesson? Now I’ve been up about 40 hours and I feel tired, perhaps a nap is in order. That’s the one thing about sleep, once it’s gone, you can’t get it back. You can’t “catch up on sleep” it’s gone baby, I still felt like shit when I got up, it will take me 2 days to get back on track.

Sweet dreams my little angel.

3/29/07

Dear Diary-

I’m finally feeling a little bit like my old self. I went rollerblading today, and no, I’m not gay. If rollerblading is gay, then roller hockey is gay, which means that hockey is gay. End of argument. My knees can’t take running anymore, not to mention the fact that I've never been able to run at 20 mph, so there. While getting my exercise for the day, I found another group of people who we can start to taser. Guys who ride their bikes wearing the little tight biking shorts and the racing outfits. Hey bicycle boy, nice uniform. That’s like going out to toss the football around wearing full pads. Get a clue. You look ridiculous and everyone who sees you thinks “that guy looks ridiculous.” Unless you’re trying to shave 1/1000 of a second off your time, quit wearing the outfits. And I call them outfits, because that’s what they seem like… “outfits.” You’re riding your bike in the park, this isn’t the Tour de France OK? Stop embarrassing yourself. Those clothes are made for bicycle RACING, not for pulling a stroller.

4/10/07

Dear Diary-

I just got to Atlanta.  I flew.  Again.  Yummy.  I just expect shit to go bad anymore.  Flying is never smooth for me.  In the morning security line I got behind a guy.  You know it's never going to be good when it starts out, I got in line behind a guy... This little darling was...let's just say...rural.  He wasn't living in a loft downtown near upscale urban shopping.  The security lines were light, not many people flying out on Tuesday morning.  I'm behind the guy and there is one lady behind me.  After 10 seconds, I realize I should move to another line, NOW.  This guy isn't cruising through security.  He starts off asking questions?  "When did this start?"  "How come?" "Why can't I bring this?"  I'm just about the move when he says "I haven't flown since 1978."  What?  Did he just say he hasn't flown since 1978?  How is that possible?  The security lady, God love her, was as patient as can be.  I'm sticking around now, I've got see what else he has up his sleeve.  She's going over the list of stuff he can't take and each item she mentions, he reaches in and pulls out said item.  EACH TIME.  I can't believe it, he's carrying every single thing you can't bring onto an airplane.  He's got shampoo, three bottles of cologne, a big toothpaste, pointy scissors, a utility tool, and a knife on his belt.  When she takes his lighters, yes, lighters, he had four.  He is blown away, "My lighters? How am I going to light my cigarettes?"  This guy was priceless.  The security lady informs him that he has to find new lighting utensils at his destination.  They put his bag through the x-ray machine and we got through the metal detector.  When we get to the other side, they hold up his bag and ask, "who's is this?"  Now, they've got to go through his whole bag.  I felt kind of bad for him, he hasn't flown in 29 years and when he comes back he's thrown into some Orwellian Big Brother airport from the future.  By the time I got my shoes back on, they had his belongings spread out all over like a yard sale.

I head down to the gate for the wait.  I've got about an hour layover in Charlotte.  I like to have more than an hour, you know, just in case.  Then the announcement
"the flight to Charlotte has been delayed 30 min."  Hmm, that's going to cut it close. Thirty minutes isn't much time for a layover.  Especially if the connecting gate isn't close.  Which, by the way, it never is.  Of all the times I've flown I've never left a gate, made a left turn and entered my connecting gate.  Just once would be nice.   All of a sudden there is a huge surge to the gate desk.  I'm confused, what's going on?  Did I miss something?  Why is everyone rushing the gate?  Is this first come, first served?  Then someone tells me, they're trying to get a different connecting flight, if they miss the one they're booked on.  Oh, yeah, that's a good idea.  I just called the airline and changed mine.  I left them there in line and went and had a bagel.

I arrive in Charlotte 15 minutes before my connecting flight leaves.  I arrive at C-12 and my connecting flight departs from C-14.  No shit.  It happened.  I don't have to run.  There's nothing worse than having to run through an airport.  I always feel for those bastards.  Maybe you should have left home earlier.

 

4/16/07

Dear Diary-

You are not going to believe this.  I just got back from the Comics on Duty Tour.  The shows were all great.  Not a whole lot of people, but it's not like Iraq.  The stateside people can go other places.  The ones that did show up saw a great show.  So I flew back.  Saturday night we had a show in Athens, GA at the Navy base there.  We left at 4 a.m. in order the catch a 7:40 flight.  We get to Atlanta about 5:40.  Perfect, plenty of time.  There are about 50 people doing the curbside check in.  Hmmm, that's not a good sign, that's a lot of people at 5:40 on a Sunday morning.  I head inside to check in at the little computer terminals they have.  It's so much easier, I don't know why more people don't use them.  I keep getting an error code, and as the line inside is getting longer, I decide to get in line before it's too late. It's now 5:50, still plenty of time to get to my gate.  I'm only 20 people deep.  At 7 o'clock I get to the ticket counter.  An hour and ten minutes, looking at the employees, you knew there was trouble, way to many of them on phones for way too long.  I get up and tell her I received and error code.  She looks me up and then tells me "That reservation has been canceled."

"No, it hasn't been, why  would it be canceled?"

"Did you cancel it?"

"No.  Why would I cancel my own reservation, how would I get home?"

"Well, it's been canceled."

"Can you un-cancel it?"

"No sir, once it's been canceled, you can't get it back."

"Well what do we do?"

She gets on the phone.  Super.  They've got a new computer system and there a few glitches in it.  Well maybe you should've gotten the glitches out before you put the system on line.  I'm starting to get uptight.  I have my info right here in my hand.  It says I've got a reservation and I need to get on that plane.  She's still on the phone for me and checking in other people!  I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to piss her off.   I want all her attention focused on ME.  Damn you woman, don't you know who I am?  Another 10 minutes roll by and I'm freaking out.  It's now 7:15 and my flight leaves in 25 minutes.  She tells me she's checking inventory.  I don't know what that means, but whatever.  She tags my bag and throws it onto the belt, at least my bag will make it home.  I receive a boarding pass, she tells me the girls at the gate know I'm coming, but I need to hurry, it's now 7:25 and I take off running.  Yeah you heard me.  Running.  I head around the corner and realize I'm going the wrong way, I turn back, hit another corner and am slapped in the face with thousands of people waiting to get through security.  I realize I'm sunk, I'll never make it through.  I just go to one of the helpers, explain my situation and they let me go to the front.  Now, there's only about 10 people ahead of me.  Wow, I may make it.  Then I see who's in front of me.  Rural from St. Louis.  No, of course, but that would've been funny huh?  No, instead it's a group of ladies wearing Popeye's Chicken uniforms.  It's like they got off work and headed straight to the airport, one of them was even wearing an apron.  They've got a ton of bags and I know I'll never get through in time.  Then bam, boom, bingo, I'm through.  My hats off to the Popeye's chicken ladies, you guys flew through the security line.  Now it's 7:35, five minutes before departure.  I put my shoes back on and take off running.  Yes, I'm running again.  This running is making me thirsty.  I'm looking for my gate around the next corner when I see it.  The tram, I forgot about the f**king tram.  I'll never make it, I'm in terminal A and my gate is in D.  That's 3 stops before mine and trams make long stops.  All that hydraulic hiss is pissing me off, let's go already.  It's 7:45, I'll never fly again.  The tram stops and once again, I take off running, like a madman.  Running through the airport like one of those doofuses you see all the time.  Maybe I should have left home earlier.  I get to my gate and the plane is still there.  I'm soaked.  I'm sweaty as a mofo.  Running through the airport is sweaty business.  Five minutes later and I'm on the plane.  Sitting in the front row.  I've never sat in the front row of a commercial plane.  Sweet.  We take off at 8, arrive at 9.  Since I'm sitting in the front row, I can get off the plane fast and catch my connecting flight that leaves in 3 hours.

5/4/07

Dear Diary-

Oh what a day I had yesterday my little friend. Oh what a day. I was scheduled to do Bob and Tom at 6 a.m. I had my alarm set for 5, just to go over my notes etc. Well, I woke up at 1:30 with a fargin’ headache and never got back to sleep. Not in my best shape to be funny at the crack of dawn, but I’m a professional and the show must go on. I had no idea how much that little phrase would come back to haunt me. Had some great radio and then went to play in a charity golf tournament as Bob and Tom’s “celebrity golfer.” That was quite a stretch. Celebrity. Please. But I guess to some people out there, I’m a celebrity. I mean I’m no Bob Zany, but some people know who I am. I play in the tourney and get back about 6:30 p.m. Now I can’t get a nap in that short time span. I’m big on the naps, I like to take one before every show. The sad thing is, if I don’t get my nap, I get a little crabby. What a puss. Sweenz’ is a little cranky because he didn’t get his nap in. Somebody slap me.

 

5/5/07

Dear Diary-

Oh what a day I had again yesterday. Another rip snorter. I had radio at six and woke up again with another headache at almost the same time as the night before. I’m not sure what’s going on. Do I have a tumor? No, it’s not a tumor. Maybe it’s a premonition of something that’s going to happen at 1:30 in the morning. Who knows? I don’t. Anyway, I go do my radio shows. I went to see Spiderman 3, which was OK, nothing special in this movie goers humble opinion. I stopped and got some lunch and went home for some grub and a well needed nap. I haven’t slept more than 3 hours a night since I got here. I arise from my afternoon slumber and don’t feel very good. My stomach is churning and gurgling. Not a good sign. I’ve had food poisoning about 10 times, (no shit) and this is what it feels like. I hope that’s not what it is, because it’s hard to go on stage if you’ve got the food borne illness. I’m at the club, having my club soda and trying to keep things in check. Management cuts five minutes off my time and I feel like I can get through. I struggle; and I do mean struggle through my set. I feel liking puking and/or pooping, I’ve got the cold sweats and I just want to go home. I’m literally reading my act, no expressions, no selling the bits, just going through the motions. It feels like if I move too much I’ll lose it. All I’m doing is checking the clock. When I get to 10 minutes left, I know I’m not going to make it. Either my stomach or lower tract is going to let loose. I ask if the emcee is around, he says yeah and I start to wrap it up. I got off stage and actually scurried out of the room. I’d like to say I ran, but that wouldn’t have been possible. I head to the john, grab a seat and slide the trash can over, just in case. Without the detail, I’ll just say it was unpleasant. It may have been the most uncomfortable 15 minutes I’ve ever spent. I hope this makes me feel better. I’ve still got another show to do.

The emcee got me some Pepto and I did feel better for the second show. I got some crackers and 7-up for dinner and made it through.

5/6/07

Dear Diary-

I got up at 8:30, slept like a baby, no headache, no puking. Yeah. Life is once again sweet. I still don’t feel very good, but nothing drastic. I had some cereal for breakfast and it stayed. Good things. Everything was fine until lunch. It only stayed with me for about an hour. Then a rapid departure. Super, now I feel like shit again. The heaving has given me another headache and my back and stomach hurt. I try to lay down for a nap or something but it doesn’t work. Too much activity going on inside. I toss and turn for a couple of hours and then get up and have another dinner of crackers and 7-up. Strange how drinking 7-up reminds you of being sick as a kid. That’s always what your mom gave you if you had an upset stomach. Crackers, toast and 7-up. A sleeve of saltines and I think I’m ready to tackle two shows. I had a much better night. I felt like shit all night, but no major bathroom escapades. I did get sick again when I got home. I hope that was the last time. I’m sore. One show tonight and then back on the road.

 

5/22/07

Bob and Tom Tour

Dear Diary- I just got back from a whirlwind weekend of doing the Friends of Bob and Tom Tour. When I say whirlwind, I mean whirlwind. Here’s a brief run down of the weekend.

5:00 a.m. My cab is late. This sucks. I’ve got my keys in hand, if he’s not here is 2 minutes, I’ll drive myself. OK- if he’s not here in 60 seconds, I’ll drive myself. I can’t miss this plane. If he’s not here in 30 seconds, I’m leaving. 10,9,8,7, OK, I’m getting in my car to drive myself and leave my car at the airport, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid. OK- let’s go. I get in my car, start it up and the cab pulls up. Dumb ass. Why must you put all this stress into my morning?

6:15 a.m. I’m on my flight. Amazingly, no problems getting through security. A benefit of leaving early. No morons, no new fliers, no one with lighters or water bottles. Life is sweet.

I’m in the midst of a three hour layover, just killing some time in the Denver airport. It’s a nice airport but there’s only so much to do in an airport. I arrive at gate B 56 and am leaving from gate A 61. Weirdly enough, they’re not very close to each other. It took me almost 25 minutes to get to the other gate, good thing I’ve got three hours to kill. We fly from Denver to Kearney, Nebraska on a 20 seat crop dusting plane. Waiting at the gate I find little Timmy Wilson and the Pork Pistols. The Pistols are Donnie Baker’s band. Yes, Donnie has a band. We hang, we converse, we load on the plane. Wilson has only his guitar, nothing else. He learned how to do this from the “ Chuck Berry school of doing the road.” Bring only your guitar, if you need anything, get it when you get where you’re going. Hmm.

We get on the plane and I’m in the back with the band, Dusty the drummer reaches up to open his air vent and the whole lighting console falls out of the ceiling. Now there’s a big hunk of metal with wires all over dangling over his head. We try to re-attach it, but no go. We don’t want to tell anyone for fear we’ll have to disembark and get on another plane. Who’s got time for the that nonsense? Having a dangling square of metal with sharp edges swinging over our heads doesn’t seem that dangerous. Does it? Well, if we hit turbulence, that may cause a problem. We decide to report it and a maintenance guy comes out with his utility tool and jams it back up in there. “OK” he says, “that should do it.” OK, let’s fly. It turned out to be a windy day in Denver, which we found out when the plane started swerving on take off. Swerving, yes, swerving. I’ve never been on a plane that swerved as it rolled down the tarmac. Interesting feeling. A little freaky to be honest with you. Let’s get this baby up in the air. It was a white knuckle flight all the way to Kearney. I don’t mind a little turbulence, but damn, I shouldn’t feel sea sick. Let’s stop flying and get on the ground.

Kearney is a nice little town in the middle of Nebraska, but it doesn’t have much of an airport. I was there about 10 years ago and I swear it used to be a Shell station. We get into Kearney about 2 and rent the only three cars they have. Off to the hotel and a nap. Big show tonight and I need my beauty sleep. Twenty minutes into my nap Armstrong calls, nap’s over. Oh well, 20 minutes should be enough.

11:45 p.m.

Back at the hotel, rockin’ little show. Kearney, Nebraska rocks. Does that sound funny? Maybe, but the show was great. Somewhere around 3000 people came, they love Bob and Tom in Kearney. I may go to bed soon, we’ve got to get up at 5:45 so we can catch a plane back to Denver. The flight to Denver wasn’t as rocky at the flight in. Kristi Lee and Patti Vasquez were very happy the plane seemed stable.

We arrive in Sacramento about 2, the venue is 90 minutes away, the hotel is 2 hours away, I know, I know it’s not very convenient, but apparently Sacramento is the closest airport to Stockton and it seemed, all the hotel rooms were taken. Maybe the whales stuck in the waterway brought a lot more people into town. I take a 5 minute ride in the shuttle to get over to the rental car building, I’m not even sure it was on airport property. I had a car reserved with Enterprise and I as enter the building, I notice there has to be 75 people in line at the Enterprise and Budget counters. What the hell? Why are these people in line? Are they all getting cars? Why else would they be here? But why just these two lines? Why aren’t there lines at all the counters? I just went over to Avis, which had no line and was on the road in five minutes. I still don’t know what those people were waiting for. All I know is, I’m not waiting.

I’m off to Stockton, I’d like a beverage for the road but decide to wait until I’m off the airport property. Forty minutes later I find a place. The area around Sacramento is mainly farms and apparently those people don’t need gas, or food or drink. Not one stop did I find until I was halfway to Stockton. I mean…what the hell?

I arrive in Modesto, where the room’s were. It’s almost 4:30, I’m supposed to meet Armstrong in the lobby at 5:30, I guess no nap for you Sweeneysan. Just take a shower, go over some notes and head to the show. We have a “meet and greet” before every show. We go and meet with and take pictures with people who won on the radio stations. It’s pretty cool, they’re very happy we're there. They did have to toss one guy though. He’s wearing a kaleidoscope colored bandanna, a green sweat suit, he’s carrying a fanny pack that looked stuffed to the gills and sporting a t shirt that said “HI KRISTI LEE- LONG TIME LISTENER, FIRST TIME STALKER.” Well done sir, you’ve just yourself an escort out through the alleyway. The show last night was in a hockey/event arena. Stockton was in the Bob Hope theater which was built in the 30’s. I don’t think it was called the Bob Hope theater originally, because of course, he wasn’t around then. But it was cool. The green rooms were downstairs underneath the stage. I took a ton of pictures backstage but because I had the f-stop set wrong, most of the pics turned out blurry. What a dumb ass. Oh well, next time I’ll know. Thanks to Donnie and his opening song, I had “shut up Randy” stuck in my head. I do have to admit, it’s a catchy tune.

We did two shows and they again, rocked. Armstrong and I decide to just head to the airport instead of driving 30 minutes out of our way just for a couple of hours of sleep. We’re going to do it old school. Living on the road, sleeping in the car, sleeping in the airport. You know, old school. Which of course, is great when you’re young and flexible. Which we are not. We dropped the car off at 1:45 a.m. and there was no one in line. I was first and last. I like that, no lines. That’s the way to go. Drop your rental car off in the middle of the night and there is no fuss or muss. The shuttle takes us back on another 5 minute jaunt. We’re at the airport by 2. My flight is at 7. I’ve got plenty of time.

Mikey and I are sitting in some chairs, biding our time. There are about 5 people in this airport. One security guard and the maintenance crew, whom are waxing the floors. EVERY floor. At one time they had all three bathrooms closed. That’s not going to work. I’ve got to tee tee. I go ahead and taunt fate and cross over the yellow tape. The floor looked dry to me. I’m certainly not one to track up someone’s newly waxed floor, but for the love of Pete, you can’t close ALL the bathrooms.

I head back to our seats, then this guy wearing a Texas Longhorn hat sits down in our space and starts talking. Hey dude, it’s 2:30 in the blessed a.m. why are you talking to us? It was strange. He said the worked on an oil rig. I left him with Armstrong and went for a walk. I’ve still got plenty of time.

Sitting in the airport overnight, you learn some things, for one, the announcements don’t stop just because there’s no one there to hear them. “The TSA has determined that…” on and on all night. Hey turn it off will ya? I can’t hear myself think because they’ve got it turned up all the way. It just blares in your face. Quiet down for the love of Mike. I’m trying to catch some shut eye sitting in a hard, uncomfortable chair while having my legs intertwined with my luggage so it doesn’t get stolen. I don’t know who could’ve stolen anything, there’s nobody here. But just in case. We get in line at 4:30, check in and part our ways. I’m tired, I’m ready to head home. I’ll be there in another 8 hours. But I did get home after being up again for almost 40 hours, I don’t know how I do it. I feel like the guys on Deadliest Catch, although I doubt I’m in much shape to be pulling crab pots. Nap time. Bye bye.

7/25/07

Dear Diary-

Wow- I bet you wonder where I’ve been.

“Not really”

“What do you mean, not really?”

“I mean, I didn’t miss your ass, I was actually enjoying being left alone. Solitude soothes me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why is that so hard to believe? Do you really think what you say is interesting?”
“Yes, I do.”

“Well, you’re wrong, innate chatter isn’t interesting, it’s annoying. No one really cares about what the hell you’re doing, why don’t you just quit wasting everyone’s time?”

“Why are being so cruel?”

“I don’t know, just feeling a little snotty today, please carry on. Fill us in on the wonderments of your life.”

“That’s better.”

 

Ok- it’s now July. I’ve been neglectful. Shame on me, shame on me indeed. In my defense, not much has been going on. I’ve had some time off and haven’t done much of anything to speak of. I actually like it. I like having the summer off. I think that’s left over from my childhood, summer was always the best. No school, just playing all day. Perfect. I wish as adults we could do that. Just take the whole summer off. Or maybe not, there’s already too many people driving around during the day for my tastes. Every time I go out, it amazes me the amount of people who are out and about. What are you people doing out here? Don’t you have jobs? One of the reasons I’ve always worked nights was to be able to do my shit during the day. Unfettered and unencumbered. And now there people in my way every where I go. What the hell happened? It wasn’t always this way. I remember a time when you could roam free during the day. Just who are these obstacles? Are they are internet wizards who have plenty of time to just drive around? Are they self employed? Are they lost? Just what the hell are they doing out here at 1:45 in the afternoon?

So- I haven’t done much this summer, that’s OK. Sometimes a man just needs to clear his head. I’m in Knoxville right now, auditioning for some cruise ship work. I don’t really have a 401K plan or anything, it’s not real big amongst the comedy world. Working cruise ships is my retirement plan. Oh- it’s not much of a plan, but it’s the only one I’ve got right now. I’m off to Iraq again on August 14. I heard it gets over 120* in Iraq in the summer, so that should be fun. Good thing I like to sweat eh? Perhaps after that trip, I’ll have something more interesting to write about. That’s it for now. God’s speed little ones.

7/30/07

Dear Diary-

I saw ZZ Top last night for somewhere around the 13th or 14th time. I saw them the first time in 1975, before they had beards, that’s how long I’ve been listening to the Top. I’ve been to over 300 concerts and I’ll be damned if there’s a cooler band out there than ZZ Top. I’ve seen them all too. The Stones, Zeppelin, Clapton, Stevie Ray, The Who, Pink Floyd etc, etc. They’re great in their own way, but as far as cool goes, nobody beats the little ole band from Texas. They still sound great and look like they’re having fun. There’s no nonsense, no wrap around microphones, no explosions, no cranes or hoists, no group choreography, or any other type of bollocks that bands seem to need. Just a guitar, a bass and a set of drums. Pure, simple. Rock and Roll. Although concerts aren’t what they used to be. The early years had clouds of pot smoke billowing through the arena, clouding out the Frisbees and beach balls. It was an event, a party, a gathering of the people to celebrate the tunes with some alcohol and some herb. Not today. I think they closed the bar at 9:30, whoa, slow down there chief, let’s not get carried away. It is after all… a school night. All I’m saying is; if you have a chance to see ZZ Top, do it. You won’t be disappointed. That is all.

zz.jpg

8/12/08 - 8/28/08
 
I'm in Afghanistan.  My Afghanistan vacation
 
 
9/12/07
 
Dear Diary-
 
Hello there.  I hope this entry finds you in good spirits.  I'm in Omaha this week, good week so far.  Nothing's happening.  Not much is going on.  I have nothing new, or exciting to mention.  There hasn't really been anything worth while going on.  It's been quiet.  Peaceful.  Serene.  I wish I had something witty or clever or even a little interesting to say.  But I don't.  Have I gotten boring?  Has my life flatlined?  Is this it? Have my entries into my diary become mundane?  What will happen if that is the case?  What will become of me?  Will I wither?  Will I fade away?  Will my vine of life become riddled with emptiness?  Will I, as a member of the human race, even have a reason to go on?  Of course, you silly bastard.  You have a reason, you have a purpose, a special purpose.  What it is, is still unknown, but I'm sure you'll find it somewhere.  Exciting, interesting things don't happen every day.  There can't always be something to "write about."  Sometimes there are lulls.  I just spent a couple of weeks in Afghanistan, maybe that's it.  Maybe it's the post-world-travel-tour syndrome, if there even is such a thing.  I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh golly, people like me.  So don't fret about it.  Just keep your eyes open and things will happen.  Some goofball will do something stupid to get in my way and aggravate me in some fashion, and I'll be back.  This by the way, is the strangest diary I've ever read. 
 

11/13/07

Dear Diary-

Wow, I know, it’s been awhile. Not much, how ‘bout you? Still drinking Pina Coladas and taking walks in the rain? No? Too bad. Anyway, I’m back after my little hiatus. I had some time off and didn’t do much in the way of comedy or comedy stylings. I just got done with a nine show week in St. Louis and was at the grocery store doing my supply replenishing. Stocking up on my goods and services. As I was passing through the meat department, I saw these bacon wrapped filet mignons on sale. They were pre-packaged, which isn’t a good sign, but apparently, I neglected to notice. They were also $2.99 a piece. Wow, that’s a bargain. The other ones are $14, so $2.99 is a steal. I thought “hmm, maybe I’ll treat my self with a nice steak lunch on a Tuesday afternoon. I’m like that, wild and crazy, fly by the seat of my pants, throw caution to the wind, play it loose, kind of guy. Let’s get unorthodox, shall we? We’ll have steak on Tuesday afternoon. And this price, who could argue? So I bought a couple.

They seemed alright on the grill, maybe a little too much shrinkage, but they still looked quite tasty. They seemed to cook a little faster than normal too. All of a sudden they’ve got a well done feel with a med-rare cooking time. Hmm. Well, they’re done, let’s eat. The first bite was a little dry, “that’s just the end piece” I say to myself, as there was no one else there. The rest will be better. I was wrong. After a solid four minutes of chewing the second bite, I still wasn’t done with it, it wasn’t ready for swallowing. After five minutes, I started getting concerned. I had changed the shape of this particular piece of meat, but not the size. I had chewed it flat, but that’s as far as it will go. I can’t destroy this piece of meat enough to swallow it. “What the hell is going on?” I discard that piece and try another. Same thing, I can’t get this meat into swallowing condition. It just won’t break down. I’m a meat shape shifter, but not a meat consumer. I got through the entire steak and never swallowed a piece, the pile of chewed meat sat on the plate the same size as it started, just chewed up. It may have been the worst piece of beef I’ve ever encountered. I thought that maybe I had just gotten the one bad apple from this particular bovine personality, so I cooked up the second one, because after eating that first one, I was still hungry.

Unfortunately, the second one was the same. Maybe this cow was bad or something. What part of a cow does the $2.99 filet come from? The feet? The forehead? Is it tail meat? Where it comes from- I may never know. I’m not really sure I want to know. D’ know? What I do know now is that I will never buy a $2.99 “filet mignon” again. You most definitely get what you pay for there. Don’t go cheap on your meats. Lesson learned.

Oh wait- is that ham on sale?

 

11/19/07

Dear Diary-

What’s wrong with people? I went to Blockbuster today to rent a movie. I don’t know why I told you I was renting a movie. What else would you do at Blockbuster? I rented BUG, it was with Ashley Judd and some dude. I knew a little about it, not much. There will be a “spoiler alert” in this paragraph. As I was checking out the lady behind the counter, who looked to be mid 40’s said, “Oh my God, this movie is so weird.” Ok, thanks, I didn’t need your input but thank you anyway. She then turns to the teen age kid working with her and says “Did you figure this out before the ending?” I’m about ready to tell them that I haven’t seen it yet and don’t really need their thoughts or opinion, ring me up and let me go. But the kid says “ Not really, I was almost to the end when I figured out he was imagining the whole thing.” What? Are you shitting me? I’m standing right here numbnuts, I haven’t seen the movie and now I know it’s a hallucination? Big surprise you’re working at Blockbuster. With that kind of tact and common sense, you’ll be scooting right to the top of the charts. Both of them are completely oblivious the fact I’m standing there. The lady behind me even said “unbelievable.” I didn’t even know what to say. I was flabbergasted. I didn’t know whether to check it out or tell them they’ve ruined it for me and I want my money back. Since I had spent almost 45 minutes trying to find something to watch, I kept it. It was weird, in the end it wasn’t hard to figure out the guy was unstable, but I didn’t need a loose lipped cashier from Blockbuster telling me so.

 

11/26/07

Dear Diary-

I found some more people we can taser. I know, I know, that’s becoming a big thing for me, tasering. I’m not specifically looking for people to taser, they just happen to cross my path. I don’t know why, really, maybe there are a lot of people who need to be tasered. Like that college kid who was in the news recently. He had continually interrupted a meeting or something and he was fighting with security and as he was being dragged out, he kept screaming “don’t taser me bro.” All I could think of was “well then get the hell out when you’re asked to.” What a dumb ass, some of these people need to realize there are consequences to their actions. I was glad he got blasted, serves him right. Next time, shut your pie hole and get out when you’re told.

It turns out, this kid was just a shit disturber. He had video taped himself standing on the street corner giving out the end of the last Harry Potter book. What a dick. I hope he gets tasered a lot through out his life.

Another group we can taser are people who talk on their phones when looking for their seat on an airplane. Hey jack ass, hang up and find your seat. Nobody on the plane cares what you’re talking about. Your mindless conversation about mindless, unimportant shit is pissing everyone off. Shut up and sit down. If your call is important, finish it outside, you’ve got a ticket, your seat will still be there. There’s no reason for you to get on the plane if you’re still talking to someone. If you’re so important, maybe you shouldn’t be leaving town. Stay here and take care of your business. Anyone who’s read anything of this diary knows my low tolerance for public phone users. The cell phone has made us into the rudest group of people ever. Sad. Anyway, people who use their phone anytime they’re participating in another activity should be tasered.

If someone is waiting in line to pay for something and talking on their phone- taser them.

If someone is in a car with someone else and starts talking on their phone- taser them.

If someone sits down near someone who has clearly tried to move away from phone users and then makes a call- taser them.

If someone’s phone goes off in a comedy club after being specifically told to turn their phones off- taser them.

If someone takes a call when having a meal with someone- taser them.

If someone uses their phone to take pictures of a concert when they’re sitting in the upper level- taser them.

I could go on and on, but let’s not kick a dead horse, we obviously can’t just taser people, but it would be nice if we could. Ok that’s it for now. Happy Holidays.

11/30/07

Dear Diary-

I’ve been watching some of the political debates lately, not that I’m a political guy, but it’s on TV all day, every day. I don’t follow politics and I don’t do political material. I personally, loathe politicians. I think every one of them is a greedy, power thirsty, ego maniac, who on some level is unethical and/or immoral. But that’s just me. They remind me of convicts. You can tell they’re lying because their lips are moving. Prisoners spend all day trying to manipulate the guards and the system, while politicians spend all day trying to manipulate the American people into voting for them. Not much difference, to me at least.

What I’ve been curious about is this: while these candidates are traipsing around the country, running for president, who’s doing their job? If I’m not mistaken, most these people already have a gig. Whether it’s as a Senator, Congressman or Governor. They’ve been elected to another position and then spend 2 years trying for another job. What makes you think we’d vote for you to be President, when you’re not here doing the job we elected you to do? How can you be trusted? That’s my question? How do we know you won’t take the next tasty gig that comes along? What about that huh? What about that?

I think the candidates leave a little something to be desired. The debates are like watching 5th graders trying to be diplomatic. Tit for tat. All of you shut up. Every time I watch some of the debating, I just want to go up and slap them all in the face.

Let’s start with Obama, he seemed alright at first, then I found out he won’t hold his hand over his heart during the National Anthem. He said his grandfather taught him to hold his hand over his heart only during the Pledge of Allegiance. Well dude, grandpa was wrong. Watch any football or baseball or hockey game and people are standing there with their hands or their hats over their heart during the National Anthem. Even if grandpa was right, the patriotic thing to do is hold your hand over your heart when the song is played. Anyone who runs for president should know that. The President should be the ultimate patriot.

Hillary bugs me too. She’ll jump on any bandwagon that comes along. I love those clips of her saying “I’m a New Yorker” or “Go Yankees.” Knock it off lady, you’re from Illinois. Just because you move or visit somewhere, doesn’t make you a native.

Dennis Kucinich. Look at him. Enough said. He’ll never be our president.

Mitt Romney has taken a lot of heat because he’s a mormon. There are certain groups out there who wonder how he can be president if he can’t receive “divine guidance.” OK- somewhere we have to draw the line. Faith in the Lord is great, but do these people actually believe that our president has a direct line to God for advice on how to run the country? Are you shitting me? What is wrong with people? Get a clue, God doesn’t guide our politicians, I wish he did, but he doesn’t. Most of them are guided by their crotches and pocketbooks.

Fred Thompson- loved him on Law and Order.

John Edwards- reminds me of a pretty, rich, frat boy. Wants to relate to the common man, then spends $400 on a haircut. Nice try John. Great set of priorities.

Rudy Giuliani- did a great job with the city after 9-11. Can’t use it as experience for everything under the sun though. Also, turns out when he was up in the Hamptons, cheating on his wife, the city may have picked up the tab for his lodging. Smooth.

John McCain- seems like a good enough guy. You have to wonder though, after spending four years as a POW, there might something simmering just under the surface, waiting to froth over and lay waste to everything in it’s path.

Chris Dodd, Mike Gravel, Tom Trancredo, Duncan Hunter…um, who?

I’ve noticed all these people like to talk about their “experience”, well, none of you have any. I don’t think any of you has been president, wait, no, none of these people have served as commander in chief. I suppose on some level, Hillary has some experience with the presidency, I mean she was married to a president. But one must think, if she was so busy learning shit and gathering information, how come she didn’t know her old man was getting hummers under his desk. Just curious.

Well that’s about enough of that, this stuff gets me all worked up. And it’s not over, not by a long shot, 11 more months of this mental badgering by candidates who’s biggest concern is how much money their making through fund raising. Unfortunately, the one with the most money usually wins. Who has the most cash to spend on ads and anti-ads. That’s who wins, it’s never the most qualified. Sad, yes I know. But that’s American politics. Always has been, the few rich govern the many poor. Ok- now I’m serious, enough of this rambling, let’s concentrate on being a little more entertaining next time, this ranting is boring me. Fine.

12/06/07

Dear Diary-

Well, I’m back from my cruise. I had my first cruise ship gig this week and it was most triumphant. It was nice to float on down to Mexico in the middle of December. Tropical, warm, sunny, just the way I like it. It was a whirlwind couple of days though. I left on Monday morning, flew to Dallas, flew to Mobile, sailed to Cozumel, flew back to Dallas and then flew home on Wednesday. Oh yes, I’m a jet setter. It was a close call getting to Dallas and then getting through customs to catch my flight home. Once you clear customs, you have to get back in line and go through security again, which doesn’t make sense. I couldn’t have gotten to this point if I wasn’t secure. When we got to the customs line, I was probably 50th in line. I had an hour before I had to catch my connection, so I figured I had plenty of time. The customs people they had working must have been new, they were scrutinizing each passport, taking pictures with their new cameras and basically going at a snails pace. I had been in line almost 20 minutes and had only moved up 2 spots. Now I’m getting a little uneasy, at this rate, I won’t make my flight. Lope de dope, oh lope de dope. Let’s pick it up people, we’ve got flights to catch. Then on the far side I see a new guy come on shift, Oh goody, one more body to help with the line. The guy running the line sends me and about 4 others to this new guy and all of a sudden he’s whipping us through, a glance at the passport, a glance at us and boom, we’re through. No non sense, no bollocks. Now, this is how to do it, maybe he should be teaching the others how to do their job efficiently. Now I’m off. Back to security again. I won’t go off on what a joke security is, it’s proved on one thing, it just slows things down. Last week the TSA smuggled bomb parts on to a plane just to prove they could, and last month some dude in New York smuggled a monkey on to a plane, feel safer? You bet. The whole water thing as really made things secure. You can’t bring a lighter on, but you can bring matches. I can start a fire with matches as well as a lighter, can’t you? No one is more secure, we’re just more pressed for time. After security, I’ve got to get on the tram to go to the other side of the airport. Don’t you hate that? Getting on a tram to get to your gate? How big is this place that you can’t put the gates closer to each other? A tram for God’s sake. Then, after getting off the tram, I’m still not close to my gate. I’ve got to go down an escalator that is so long, I can’t see the bottom. How far down are we going? Is this gate in the sub-basement. Has it been put in the absolutely furthest place possible? When I get to the bottom of the escalator, I’ve got to get on a moving walkway, what the hell is going on? Am I even in Dallas still? How far away is this place? By the time I get to my gate there are only 4 people left to get on board. The plane is full and I’ve got a middle seat.

Is there anything worse than the middle seat of a completely packed plane? It’s quite claustrophobic. You try to put yourself into your own little world, but I’m having difficulty because the lady sitting next to me is…well, let’s just say she was a good eater. And, apparently, she needs the armrest. So I’m packed in tight, trying not to panic, I need air for the love of Mike, I’m suffocating back here. So I’m leaning over, doing the reading thing when the person in front of me slams their seat back and hits me in the head. Don’t you hate that too? When the person in front of you pushes their seat back? I know, you have to do it sometimes, but damn, try putting it back gently, it’s an airplane seat, not a barcolounger. But I made it home and did a good enough job to book some more cruise work. The only thing that was weird was everyone knows you after seeing the show. All of a sudden I’ve got about 400 new friends, which isn’t a bad thing, I’m not buying them Christmas gifts or anything. Well, that’s about it for now. Happy Holidays to you and yourn.

12/29/07

Dear Diary-

“How are you?”

“I am fine.”

“OK good, enough with the pleasantries, let’s move on.”

Well, Christmas is over, and yes, I call it Christmas because that’s what it was. I’m Columbus now, getting ready for our 3 show Saturday.  

 I saw a bill board recently for some communication company that said “how do we do it? satellites, big freakin’ satellites.”

Does that really fool anyone? Using the word “freakin"?  We know what you mean, say it, just say what you mean. I don’t understand how or why we feel the need to fool ourselves. We know what freakin’ means, why doesn’t that offend anyone? We are so good at rationalizing things to our satisfaction. What an incredible skill. Years and years of honing this denial into more pleasant thoughts. It’s like the whole “challenged” label. Someone’s not poor, they’re “financially challenged.” Um…Ok, I think it’s the same thing, but OK. I’m not sure why people say they’re offended by saying things normally. I recently saw on tv, so you know it’s true, that we’re not using the word “hungry” anymore, hungry people are now “food supply challenged.” I’m not shitting you, it’s true, food supply challenged. The list goes on forever now, weight challenged, height challenged, mentally challenged, sight challenged, mobility challenged, etc.

Classic denial. We are some kind of special.