I’m not gonna cook it, but I’ll order it from Zanzibar

And now, as promised, my life story. As summed up in the last few days.
Well, as I said, I won, whee and all that, and Jim came from Rochester, which was cool, and a lot of my friends showed up, too.
I mean a WHOLE lot.
Now, let me tell you that this particular Comedy Contest is sort of pooh-poohed upon by legitimate comics, because you see, it’s based on audience votes, rather than a panel of judges.
Now, I invited everyone I could in order to sway the vote, but I didn’t actually expect more than five to come. Ten of them did.
I also invited a few customers, and expected none of them to come. Eight of them did.
See where this is going? So if on the off chance that a scant few people who came to vote for their friend for first, happened to vote for me for at least second or third… well… you all see.
So there’s that guilt right there – the guilt of playing right into the hands of the greedy club owners who use me as their pawn to sell $3 cokes to people at a two drink minimum.
BUT, there’s also the guilt of, well… How do I put this?
I have never been able to take a compliment. Ever. I don’t know what it is about me, and I don’t guess it’s very obvious over the internet, but give me a compliment in real life, and I sort of stand there awkwardly, wishing you hadn’t.
I don’t know, I think my father’s messages of never being a braggart or egotistical sort of warped inside my head.
It really bothers people, and I don’t do it on purpose, but, I dunno.
After I won and went out to eat afterwards, all my friends said the same thing, that I looked like I’d lost. Like, my facial expressions and body language and everything. It wasn’t until just then that I realized the origin of my night’s discomfort.
So here’s the deal… I’ve said before how it’s sort of a ritual to say “Good set” to someone, even if they didn’t really. I mean, some times it’s just sort of comforting to hear someone’s support after you bomb or something. “Good set” can mean so many different things, ranging from “Good set” to “Hey, at least you’re not Carrot Top” or something like that.
But I… I try not to do that, you know? I want to try and keep things sacred so they don’t cheapen with overuse, right?
So, I did my set and I was feeling pretty good, and I went up fourth, which is like a golden position. Frank Grazolis and Bill Heyward went up my same night, and listen to me when I say this: They are really fucking hilarious. Okay? They’ve won stuff all over town, and when I found out they were on my night, I was pissed. Equally pissed that John Barry was my night; I was sort of banking on those kids who decide Contests are a good time to start comedy, and they usually go up there and forget everything.
Anyway, these gentlemen went up and did fine, fine sets. There were a few idiots who went up there and did goodness knows what, but these fellas I mentioned are quality comics, right?
Only these fuckers who were really funny kept coming up to me all like “That was the best I’ve ever seen you do…” and this other comic lady I’d taken classes with came up and said “You HAVE this, you have it in the BAG” and I was like, the same thing I said to my t-shirt. Shut up, shut up, shut up, not true, jinxey, jinxey.
So, the night goes on, and I win and everything, and they all come up to me and tell me what a great job I did. Now here’s the horrible part – I don’t know if other people are aware of this “Good set” fallacy that goes on, but I give people enough credit to think that they’re aware of it.
So when they were all congratulating me, I kept trying to convince them, too, that I really liked their set, and that they’d done just as well.
I mean, I swear, Bill has a new joke about his fat wife that was only mildly hilarious until tonight – it was perfect, he found the perfect line to end it, and it just worked.
But everything turned into this fight back and forth like
“Good set, I knew you’d win, very nice job, seriously.”
“No, but you did so well, too, I really liked what you did with-”
“Yeah, but no, you seriously were On tonight.”
when the subtext seemed to me like
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, see if the whole restaurant is going to trot their asses all the way back for the semi-finals, then where you be?”
“No, but you did so well, too, I really liked what you did with-”
“I don’t need your sympathy. I hope you die.”
I feel like if I were in the movie Memento, and they all had short term memory loss, they’d each have taken a polaroid of me right there and written “Don’t Believe Her Lies” on it.
I am often just wrong, and people have often said that with this irrational paranoia, my love of video games and snack foods, and my hysterical laughter at everything in the world, I should just break down and be a stoner, but seriously, I am so paranoid about these people hating me.
Then my friends came back and formed this circle around me, and it… I mean, it was an awesome feeling and I’d like to feel it forever, but I couldn’t stop thinking “They’re blocking the exit… all the other comics have to walk through this crowd of friends and even some people I’d never met congratulating me, GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! PEOPLE WILL THINK I HAVE A BIG HEAD OR SOMETHING.” Man, I wish I could revel in glory, I’ll bet it would be awesome.
MAN, it’s JUST like the Tri-wizard cup at Hogwarts!!! And I’m Harry Potter.
It’s like, look guys, Cedric Diggory kicked ass, too, and that Viktor Krum, he’s the fucking SEEKER of the BULGARIAN NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM, I mean come ON! I just… had a good night- PLEASE DON’T HATE ME.
I wonder if anyone would have voted for me if they knew I’d compare myself to Harry Potter.
WELL, two last things… site things more than anything.
1) Thanks to the delightful Joe Cool, I might just be having an Shoutcast Radio Show. All you need is Winamp 2.Something to listen. When would you all like to hear my man-voice and my shitty taste in music? What nights are best for you?
Also NON STOP ANTICS and USAGE OF THE WORD ‘FUCK’.
2) Um… I need a picture of something for you Google Rats.
I uh… need a picture of a twelve sided die. A “d12” as it were.
No reason. I just uh… I need to draw it. If I told you why, I’d have to kill you.
UPDATE – Couldn’t sleep. Seriously redid my CAMPORTAL.
Man, that’s nice.
As always, the order is as follows.
Queen Supreme, Bestest of Best Friends, Attractive People I Have Never Talked To, Moderately Cool People from HBF, Losers That I Hate.
Ha ha!! Is she joking? Is she joking?
PS – If you haven’t updated in like 5 months or so, and you’re still there, you must have given me sexual interfavors or something. YOU’RE LUCKY THIS TIME, GADGET.
PPS – If you wish to move up the ranks, get more attractive.
Take a few hints from JustinRWWR. Ra-ha-ha-hawr!
Oh!

Comments are closed.