Until after we give the Thanks
I'm leaving for Florida in less than 9 hours. Unfortunately, I'll be flying. Flying always brings up the question, "Do I bring my journal on the plane?" The flight presents perfect journal writing time. Nothing much to do but, read, write and sip beverages uninterrupted for hours. But if the plane explodes in a fiery crash--Poof! There goes the journal, deepriving the world of my thoughts and feeling for the last 2 months, and I know the world is very interested. The world would have to be interested if it's going to put in the long hours trying to decipher my atrocious handwriting. My mother once said to me as she glanced on a note I had scribbled, "That looks like a retarded person wrote that." Thanks mom. And if the journal disappears she'll never know I've forgiven her.
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When I lived in Portland we had a mic that at times could be awesome: packed with an attentive laughing audience. Other times it could be dismal: almost no audience or an audience looking to decimate the performers. One night the audience was particularly hostile. They heckled each comic that came to the stage. Not one of us could get them to shut up. The bar, which had bouncers, did nothing. And then a comedian named Danny Norton took the stage. He stood 5 feet 5 inches maybe a 135 pounds. The heckling continued. He tried telling jokes over them. He tried making fun of them, and then... He jumped off stage with the mic in hand and wrapped the mic chord around the heckler's neck and began to strangle him. What Danny lacks in comedic ability he makes up for with loads of self-destructive insanity. The bouncer broke up the attack and threw the heckling troglodites out of the bar. The host for the late show came in and asked, "What happened? I saw Danny out on the median of Burnside Road stomping on the flowers."
The story made the alternative weekly in town. You'd think the new public knowledge that comedians will literarly try to kill you if you harass them would have stopped Portlanders from heckling. But alas no.
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People, I know the blog has lacked the comedic heroics you're used to at smallhands_ick these last couple of weeks. I'm blaming it on the fact that I've been accidently loosing weight the last couple of months. I'm hoping this long weekend will have me back fully nourished, rested and ready to take on winter with full on absurdity. Have a great Thanksgiving.
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When I lived in Portland we had a mic that at times could be awesome: packed with an attentive laughing audience. Other times it could be dismal: almost no audience or an audience looking to decimate the performers. One night the audience was particularly hostile. They heckled each comic that came to the stage. Not one of us could get them to shut up. The bar, which had bouncers, did nothing. And then a comedian named Danny Norton took the stage. He stood 5 feet 5 inches maybe a 135 pounds. The heckling continued. He tried telling jokes over them. He tried making fun of them, and then... He jumped off stage with the mic in hand and wrapped the mic chord around the heckler's neck and began to strangle him. What Danny lacks in comedic ability he makes up for with loads of self-destructive insanity. The bouncer broke up the attack and threw the heckling troglodites out of the bar. The host for the late show came in and asked, "What happened? I saw Danny out on the median of Burnside Road stomping on the flowers."
The story made the alternative weekly in town. You'd think the new public knowledge that comedians will literarly try to kill you if you harass them would have stopped Portlanders from heckling. But alas no.
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People, I know the blog has lacked the comedic heroics you're used to at smallhands_ick these last couple of weeks. I'm blaming it on the fact that I've been accidently loosing weight the last couple of months. I'm hoping this long weekend will have me back fully nourished, rested and ready to take on winter with full on absurdity. Have a great Thanksgiving.
Comments
Eat, Rachael, eat! I'm about to go do a Pilates tape. We must reverse this.