Author Archive | mattbaker

Missing my Cruise Ship

JewelA lot of times missing a flight is completely of one’s control. It’s out of your power if your connecting flight was late, the people on the moving sidewalk were standing in your way, or the person in front of you happens to be the color that the terrorist alert was set to. I once missed a flight because the security guard had to check what exactly I was packing in my pants; which was 228.6 mm of heat. So many times you are not to blame for missing your transportation. I wish I shared that sentiment when I missed my cruise ship. The reason I could not share it is because it is incredibly hard to miss a cruise ship. Nothing was preventing me from missing my ship; I plainly lost track of time.

JunoI imagine most people, when pulling up in their taxi to see their ship sailing away without them, would freak out like a cocaine-less Andy Dick. Instead, my reaction was to burst into laughter. I guess I responded that way because I had not fully realized that I was just abandoned. I kept waiting for the cruise director to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Surprise!” Like it was some joke they played on a passenger every trip. Like, I won a prize for being the most un-organized person on the ship. Of course there was no tap, but there was a prize. The prize was one night of freedom from my 2,000 all white, all old, and mostly fat cruising counterparts.  Of course I say that in a pro; old-fat-white person way (can’t upset the fan base.) I relished in the idea of a night free of constant picture taking and loud boisterous arguments on if that was a whale or just a shadow. “What do you think cast the shadow?” One man said, not realizing how dumb of a statement that was. You get a lot of those dumb statements on a cruise ship. I heard one women refer to the natives of Alaska as, “Alaskamo’s.” My favorite is what her husband called them. I believe the term was, “Snow Mexicans.”

This is not the way I would choose to get freedom from my fellow cruisers. Much like the Iraqi’s, freedom was being forced upon me. However, I do enjoy the idea of being stranded, because it forces me to have to accomplish a mission.  I imagined getting back on the boat and having a news conference to explain what happened, with a banner behind me that said, “A Mission Accomplished.” Then after the conference, everyone says, “I think the boat was better without that guy.” This newfound independence made me feel like I was watching a Laura Croft movie; at first it sounds great, but after, you wonder what the hell you were thinking.

So my fate was decided. I was stay in Juneau for the night. As I still stood at the dock admiring my own stupidity, I thought about all the other times I had been abandoned. There was the time my mom abandoned me at a K-mart. Not in the literal sense, I just felt like she was abandoning good mothering when she actually took me to a K-mart. Or the time when I was 13, my oldest brother Kevin abandoned me at the Salt Lake City Airport. I wanted a cigarette and he said, “If you go and smoke I am leaving without you.” When I ignored his threat and went to smoke he just disappeared with my ticket. I got the last laugh, when I went to security and had them announce over the airport PA, “Kevin Baker, we have found your brother please report to airport security.” So to say the least, I had been groomed for the occasion.

Here are three things to do if you are ever stranded:

Step One: Figure out when you can leave, and do it!

Step Two: Find a place to stay, and rent it!

Step Three: Find a bar and Get drunk. However, make sure that does not cause you to forget about step one.

Step one was no problem. For $119 I was on the first flight to Skagway; where the cruise ship was stopping next. I don’t want to say the particular cruise line, but let’s just say it rhymes with Borewegian. Step two was a little harder. I had to walk around the town in search for an available hotel. It was really interesting seeing the town after all the cruise ships had left. All the characters came out. I kept waiting to see Sarah Palin and Todd stumble out of a bar and invite me over for a game of name that country. To my disappointment there were no celebrity sightings, and it saddened me that I had not seen any of these infamous Alaskamo’s.

JuneauI checked a few hotels and none were cheaper than $150. I have money, but I find something fundamentally wrong with paying so much money for a bed. For some people it makes sense. They need comfort and a sense of security, to be able to get a decent nights rest. As for me, all I need is a blanket. I can pretty much sleep anywhere. To save money in London, I took the subway to the airport every night, and slept at the baggage claim. In Maui, instead of the hostels, I simply slept on the beach. I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Along with identifying celebrity voices, and seeing midgets at far distances, it is one of my X-men abilities. Shelling out $150 for a place to lay my head for a few hours, even Jean Grey would laugh at. I needed to find something cheaper. So, I asked a guy who was trying to sell me a lighter for a dollar, if there was a hostel in town? He didn’t say a word and just pointed up the hill.

Up the hill I went. As I was walking, I passed a house that a woman had just walked out of. She was holding a Yoga mat and dressed like she was headed to work out. Our eyes met and she commented on my Descendents t-shirt.  She said, “nice shirt. The Descendant’s are like the best punk band ever.” I laughed and awkwardly said, “They are one of them.” Without hearing a word I said, she walked right by me brushing my right shoulder. In a very demanding voice she said, “My name’s Laurie, walk me to yoga.” I stood there absorbing the strange request. As I was sorting out the randomness of this occurrence, she continued to walk up the hill.  Without stopping she shouted, “Come on man. I am not trying to fuck you. I have a boyfriend. Hurry up, let’s go.” Her tone made it seem like I was inconveniencing her with my lack of sudden action. Whatever it was, it worked, because I moved like I was Kristie Alley chasing a Snickers bar.  However, it was less of me accompanying her, as it was more of, me awkwardly following her as she raced ahead. Even though she held a distance of five body lengths, she still managed to make conversation. She told me about her bar-tending job and her love for punk music. Fortunately the awkwardness was cut short, when we reached her yoga studio. I asked, “Is this it?” Surprisingly out of breath considering we had only walked two blocks. Ignoring my words and more luckily my sarcasm, she went on to invite me to her house later. “Stop by anytime. You can go there now and hang if you want. My boyfriend is there, but don’t worry he is cool.” She said as she disappeared into the yoga studio. As I walked away, I wondered all sorts of things about my new friend Laurie. I wondered; does she just not like walking alone? Does she do this to every person she passes on her way to yoga? Does she just wait in her window waiting for someone to walk by? I knew my questions would go unanswered and I continued on my quest for the holy hostel. I continued to walk up the hill until the street came to a dead end.  I stopped and asked a guy who was trying to sell me a barbecue skewer for $3.77 and he pointed (with the skewer) down this little path that led through some trees. I followed the path, which led me to a large house. It had a large porch in the front where a gutter punk couple was sitting.

Sam and Jeanie were from Denver, and welcomed me to the hostel. They took to me instantly, because I was wearing a Descendents t-shirt. Never before had this shirt gotten me so much attention. Was there some sort of Alaska-Descendents connection? We chatted on the porch for a while. They had only been in Juneau for 3 days and were giving me the 3 worthwhile spots to see in my 14 hours of furlough. They were staying here for the summer to find work and enjoy the 24 hours of sunshine. They told me about there horrid experience of sailing to Juneau from Seattle. They took a boat that transported vehicles to Alaska for people who were relocating there. 6 days of shaky seas and the disdain for their trip, made me decide not to tell them about the giant cruise ship I sailed in on. I didn’t want to ruin the first people I had met who weren’t selling me something or asking me to walk them somewhere. Finally someone who liked me for the clothes I wore.

The hostel was even cheaper than I was expecting. When the lady at the counter told me that it was $10, I stared at her in awkward silence like it was the first time I saw a women’s breasts. After getting the brief introduction to the hostel I realized why is was so cheap. To cut down on the cost of paying employees, everyone staying at the hostel had to leave from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. On top of the 9 hours you were not allowed to be there, you had to be back by 12 a.m. Or you were locked out. Not that being locked out in the warm sun is really that bad? They say that from June 21 to Dec 21st Alaska loses 5 minutes of sunlight a day. So in reality Alaskan’s loose 5 minutes of happiness a day. Not only did they dictate the hours you could be there, they also had the guests do all the chores. My allotted task was to vacuum the stairs and mop the dining room.

krygistanIn my book there is only one downfall about hostels, it is the people who do weird things in there sleep. You are always rolling the dice when you are sharing a room with 4-8 people. Sometimes, you get people who snore; some who talk in there sleep, and once in the middle of the night I even heard people having sex. I love waking up to sex, but only when I am having it. I don’t want to hear the sound of a hand slapping water unless I am the one slapping. My roommate for the evening was Rustam from Kyrgyzstan. Rustam was an extremely nice guy, who would soon be added to my list of people I would never share a room with again. I actually really liked him, until about 6:30 a.m. That was the time he decided to set his alarm for. I don’t get people who set their alarm an hour before they want to get up. I have no problem with people who get up early. Or, people who are making noise as they leave, but I do have a problem for someone hitting there snooze 8 times when they are sharing a room with strangers.

The main problem is not how many times he hit the snooze; it was how long the alarm lasted before he hit it. The alarm was not loud enough to wake him up, but was loud enough to wake up me, and the people in the room down the hall. Also, the alarm sound he chose was the most annoying thing I have heard since the first time I heard Celine Dion’s voice. I can deal with birds chirping or, a cool song, but his alarm made the sound of babies crying sound like ocean waves. It was one of those alarms that the longer it went, the louder it got. Before Rustam hit the snooze, the alarm would be going off for a good minute (which in official sleep time is the equivalent of 32 minutes.) Not only did it begin to get loud, after 30 seconds it added a voice saying something in some strange language. I imagined it was Kyrgyz and the voice was saying, “Get the fuck up you inconsiderate asshole.” Finally I sat up and in my politest voice said, “Hey dude, you got to turn that fucking thing off. Fuck…” He obliged, but not in the way I was hoping. I assumed after an hour of hitting the snooze button, and waking me up every 5 minutes, he would turn the alarm off. Instead he switched the alarm to what he thought was a more pleasant wake up call, a rooster crowing. The moment I heard the first cockadoodldoo I jumped from my bed and headed across the room. My intention was to take his phone and throwing it out the cracked window. Instead, Rustam rolled out of bed and apologized for waking me. Since I was standing there in my underwear looking as pissed as if I was Tom Cruise finding out scientology was just a ploy to get my money. I accepted his apology and went back to bed.

My sleep did not last long, because again I was woken up prematurely. This time however, it was the lady who checked me in inflicting the punishment. As she was shaking me she said, “Mr. Baker, you have not done your chores yet and you have to get out by 9.” I rolled my eyes and told her I would get right on it, which I did. I got out of bed, got my things together and when the lady wasn’t looking, slipped out the door and got right on getting the fuck out of there. I caught the first cab I saw, and instructed him to head to the airport. When we arrived at the Juneau International Airport, I had to ask the driver if this was the right place. I had to check because we were sitting in front of a building no bigger than a Radio Shack, and there were no planes in site. There was a long strip of land that resembled what an abstract artist might paint as a runway, but nothing that would hint to future archeologist that planes actually landed there.

skagwayThe inside of the airport didn’t inspire much hope in me either. I felt like I was on the set of Wings, which ironically was the name of my airline. I walked up to the counter and told them I had a reservation and they handed me a ticket. No asking for a name, no looking at ID, no asking if my bag had hazardous material, I guess they just give ticket to anyone who claims they made a reservation. The security was just as lackadaisical as the check in. Apparently, metal detector technology has not made it’s way to Alaska yet. To be honest it was quite nice to not have to take my shoes off and put everything in a baggie. When I heard you were not allowed to bring 3 oz of liquid on a plane, I wondered what next? I thought, let’s just hope the terrorist’s don’t figure out a way to make urine dangerous. The frustrating thing about security screening is that every airport is different. There is no unified system to what they allow and don’t allow. For example, The Seattle airport allows me to have shaving cream, but when I go through Spokane; an airport the size of my middle nut, they freak out like I am secretly plotting to lather up the plane and shave it. Another time in Lisbon, they pulled my bag aside because I had some liquid that exceeded the amount allowed. When they opened the bag and found my axe body spray, they laughed and let me go. It was strange, like I was secretly shooting a commercial for axe.  Regardless, of if other people were bringing on bombs that would crash and kill everyone on the plane it was nice for once to not have to throw out my toiletries.

When the flight was ready, the counter lady went around; from memory, and got all the passengers who were flying to Skagway. All 9 of us huddled up around the grey bearded pilot, like he was going to give us some sort of strategy we needed to stick to if we all wanted to survive. No real strategic maneuvers, all he said was, “Alright, we got a full flight. Be careful walking out on the runway there are a lot of holes and I don’t want you to twist an ankle.” I laughed out loud because he reminded of me of Santa Clause preparing his reindeer for the tough flight. We all got on the plane, and I was the last to board. As I was about to get on, Santa say’s to me, “I like you. I want you to be my co-pilot.” Shocked; I replied, “Really?” The thought flashed through my head of having to land the plane on a glacier because someone took out the pilot with their nail clippers. The same ones that normally get confiscated because of metal detectors. I was excited. When I got on the plane, I realized that the only seat available was the one sitting next to the pilot. Even though Santa was being nice in making me think I would actually assist him in the flight, I did not let that stop me from thinking I was the Neo of this flights matrix.

I have flown on a lot of small planes. I think this was the first plane I had been on where you can flick the pilot’s ear from the back seat. The co-pilot’s seat was comfy. So comfy, I fell right asleep when my ass hit it. Finally a sleep not interrupted from annoying alarms that make you want to punch nuns, or people shaking you trying to get you to do some mundane choir. I awoke to the sound of wheels hitting the gravel that paved the Skagway airport. My eyes opened to see my cruise ship sitting there, beckoning to me to come aboard. It was a nice way to wake up. Even though I had been gone less than 24 hours, I kind of missed the little things on the cruise you take for granted; like the drink holders next to the urinals and the people on carts driving around while drinking Franzia.  The moment I walked on the ship I was greeted in the elevator by two middle aged folks who took the elevator up one floor and it made me glad to be back.

 

 

 

 

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Flavored Envelopes

There is no doubt that technology today is astounding. Everyday, inventors, scientist and laid-off Microsoft employees create new ways to make our lives easier and more efficient. From mobile phones that are computers, to retail DNA tests that can tell you what type of career you child is most likely to have (mine is a projected Snake Milker,) whatever it is there is no dispute that the fountain of technologic advancement flows endlessly.

Toilet

Although, every time I hear a announcement of a new item that seemingly does everything we ever imagined, I always look around my house and see everyday objects that have not been upgraded since there creation. It seems as if we skim over the necessities and go right for the amenities. I find it a little troublesome that we are so focused on creating and enhancing only specific parts of our life. Mankind can send robots to mars, using only a pong joystick to have them roll around gathering samples, but I have to still wipe my own ass with a piece of tissue.  Come on NASA, why can’t I use a pong joystick to control a robot that will wipe my ass? Every time I look at my phone I am reminded of how our technologic focus is put on the wrong things. How can I watch a soccer game being broadcast live from India, while I am camping 150 miles from the closest town in Montana, but we can’t figure out a new way to cut our fingernails? Where is the phone that also is a fingernail clipper? Why is there no app for that?

coldactivated

The best example of technology not addressing the things that really matter is Coors Light. Coors Light came out with something they call a cold activated can. It is a can that changes color depending on if the beer is cold or not. Coors spent millions of dollars developing the hyper color of cans, because they knew how much time it would save people. Instead of wasting valuable seconds checking the cans temperature with their hand, people can now use that time to focus on things that really matter like watching NASCAR, polishing guns and cutting the sleeves off their flannel shirts. Coors spent millions of dollars developing something that did not need improving instead of spending that money on something that really does need improvement, making there beer not taste like dirty dog piss.

My cousin Alberta Einstein once said, “Sometimes by taking a step back you allow yourself to take two forward.” As a society we have such a desire to just keep moving forward by upgrading things that don’t really need upgrading. We are afraid to take that one step back. When I hear an announcement about a new invention, I don’t want to hear about a faster phone or a computer chip that makes you skinnier, I want to hear about improvements to things like: pencils, dishes, combs, flossing and of course the mother of all things that needs to be brought up to date and the inspiration for today’s million dollar idea; envelopes.

For close to a century people have been forced to expose their tongues to the disgusting taste of bitter dry adhesive just to seal their envelope. This acidy flavor has caused many fictional characters to die and is the second most common phobia related to licking, only behind frozen flagpoles. Everybody loves getting mail, but many factitioners credit the taste of the back of the envelope for the decline in today’s mail correspondence.

Envelope

Some have tried to solve this never-ending problem. Creating things like self-adhesive envelopes and specialty sponges, but fitness experts has found that the tongues of people using these techniques are often malnourished due to being under worked. We also question how sponge worthy envelopes really are.

This social dilemma is what we at Matt Baker Comedy are dedicated to confronting head on. When no other inventors wanted to tackle such a social and terrible problem, we have no fear. We have invented something that is simple, yet needed. Today we bring to you Flavored Envelopes.

Tired of tasting that bland sticky shit on the back of envelopes? Rather play; find the lint in Mama June’s belly button with your tongue? Don’t worry; you don’t have to anymore, not with flavored envelopes. No more gagging when you have to send a bill, no more cringing when you have to send a simple letter. Flavored Envelopes will turn the disgusting process of licking the envelope, into an enjoyable one. With an assortment of flavors that include your favorites like Vanilla, Strawberry, Pina Colada make it so, when you lick you don’t get sick.

A life with delicious flavored envelopes in it; is a life worth licking. With a flavored envelope in your hand you are standing one step closer to a life filled with peace, unicorns and people who don’t say, “dude.” No more expensive self-adhesive envelopes, no more dirty sponges and ozone polluting tape, with Flavored Envelopes just lick it and stick it.

Buy your Flavored envelopes today and be a part of the revolution that will bring down this evil regime called e-mail. If you call in the next 365 days we will throw in a sheet of our LSD flavored stamps. * Be sure to look in stores for our newest flavor, Angelina Jolie; it’s just like kissing Brad Pitt.

* Note: We at Matt Baker Comedy are not responsible for any hallucinations caused by the LSD flavored stamps. This includes, but is not limited to streaking, gnawing on your arm, thinking you are Jimi Hendrix in a past life, fighting imaginary ninja’s and flying.

 

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Jamie Lee Curtis can’t improv

Often times I perform at events where my performance is scheduled right after a celebrity. I don’t know why I would ever following someone famous, but you would be surprised on how often it happens.  It usually goes like this, “Thanks for those moving words Mr. Obama. You are truly an inspiration to the world, and we are honored you came and shared with us today. Up next, let’s give a loud round of applause, to comedian and stunt man Matt Baker.” There is something mainheadfundamentally wrong with following somebody who is significantly more famous then me. I chalk it up to the old vaudeville days, when they would use an awful act to follow the headliner. The reason they did this is to clear out the theatre to get it ready for the next show. At any rate having a person no one has ever heard of, follow a guy who was the first black president of the United States, has got to be as dumb of a move as the time I ate a hot dog at a Chippendale show.

Being a performer you come across a lot of show producers who really have no idea what is going on. It might be the stress of managing such a large event (or the blow they are doing all through it,) but a lot of the times they just have no idea how to correctly put on a show. The worst comes out when there is a celebrity involved. I once got kicked out of my dressing room because David Hasslehoff had to take a dump in my toilet. When I was allowed back in my own dressing room, it smelled like a person holding on to a mediocre career. It sickens me to watch the show people be bent over by celebrities like Leonardo DiCaprio in Basketball diaries. I understand if it is someone who actually makes a difference like the Dali Lama, but making sure Tom Arnold has 250 brown M&M’s and a glass of unicorn tears is going a little to far. They treat it like if they don’t, they can never get a low level D celebrity at their event again.

Following them is one thing I can manage, but sometimes the producer wants me to do some sort of funny interaction with the celebrity to keep the show moving. For some reason this happens a lot! Like Dan Marino’s 16 years of playing football is really going to pay off when he is forced to improvimprov for 5 minutes with a comedian. I can just see the idea going through the producer’s ecstasy riddled head, “Oh, you think Dan Marino is a great football player, just wait until he tries to make you laugh unrehearsed with this unknown comic.” It is stupid to ask someone who has done one thing their whole life and expect them to have success at something totally different. “Oh, your good at quantum mechanics, we are going to have you break-dance.” I mean, sometimes it works, but most of the time it doesn’t. It is unfair to ask a comedian to stray from his act to make people laugh, but imagine someone who has never done any improv in there life doing it; it can go south in a hurry.

There is no more of a perfect example of people not being able to interact then the time I was asked to improv with Jaimie Lee Curtis. She was speaking at an event and I was scheduled to follow her. I Jamie Leethought it would be ok since she is an actress, and backstage she was really funny. So when I got on stage with her, I jokingly said, “Jamie, I don’t know who does your makeup, but they did a great job because I didn’t even notice your adams apple.” Jamie; instead of improving with me, just stormed off stage. Maybe it was what I said, but any person with improv training would have come back with a number of witty retorts like, “The same make up person that made your career invisible.” Or, “you sure noticed it last night when you were rubbing it.” Jamie instead decided to walk off stage and leave me hanging dry on stage. I thought it was funny and so did the crowd, but the show producer didn’t; and that is all that matters. Moral of the story is, if you are ever on stage with Jamie Lee Curtis, don’t bring up that she is a man.

Caught Masturbating in China

Normally, when you hear stories about getting caught masturbating, it’s pretty horrifying. Stories like, a mom banging on the door to the bathroom screaming, “dinner’s ready,” and the door accidentally opening. Then, the story generally discusses the awkwardness of having to fight through the uncomfortable silence over dinner (which just happened to be meat and potatoes.) My personal experiences, include the time my little sister got up in the middle of the night to get water, and caught me lotiony handed in the living room stroking it to the Golden Girls. Or, the time my dad accidentally walked in on me, and decided it was a good time to tell me about the “birds and the bees” (or what my dad referred to as the “Beaver and the Snake.”)

chinaI am sure you have heard a thousand funny stories of people getting caught Jingling the Jewelry, but none I am sure are as awkward as what I am about to tell you. I was in China to perform on a very large television show.  Along with a nice paycheck, they gave me a swanky hotel; complete with the traditional Chinese breakfast of cheerios mixed with fruit loops. Now based off the breakfast, you might think that the hotel was like any hourly rate place you might see Eliot Spitzer at, but honestly this was ridiculously nice. My room came complete with flat screen TV, computer, candles, and Asian condoms. I always joked the Asian  condoms were smaller than normal condoms, but they fit me just fine.

It was like the Chinese version of the Hilton.  Although, at this hotel you could buy Paris Hilton’s porno for $1.99 (thank you black market porn.) The bathroom in the room was top notch also. It came complete with lotions, combs, toothbrushes and a heated toilet seat. Now, I am fully aware that I might not have stayed at the nicest hotels in my career, but in 10 years of travel, I had never seen the feature this bathroom had… It came complete with a phone next to the toilet! I thought to myself what a brilliant idea! Finally a bathroom designed for the person who has to conduct their business, while doing their business.  A bathroom, only a dead Elvis himself would walk into and say, “Hey, where was this when I needed it.”

Writing that joke, I had to look up what other famous people have died on the toilet.  Today, I bring you my top 5 people who have died on the old slam-dunk ring:

  1. Lenny Bruce (A funny man and a sad death)
  2. Elvis (A sad man and a funny death)
  3. Jim Morrison (Not really funny or sad)
  4. Orville Redenbacher (I bet his shits had a lot of corn)

Of course, the most famous of all bringing in the top #5 is; you know him, you love him George the II. Yes, GEORGE the II, king of Great Britain, and Ireland from 1727 all the way to his tragic death in 1760. Rumor has it that he died of a ruptured aneurysm of the aorta, but I think he faked his death, and is still releasing albums today.

Back to the story… Knowledge unknown to me at the time, and pivotal to the story, is apparently the phone does not go to a landline, but to the front desk. It is used only for emergency’s that happen in the bathroom. Kind of like a “help, I’ve shatten, and I can’t get up button.”

bathroom phoneSo, my performance on the TV show went very well, and after a few drinks got back to my hotel pretty late. Feeling good, I cleaned myself up with a shower, and got ready for a celebratory jerk before I went to bed. What can I say; I am kind of a finicky masturbator. The right mood is as important to my masturbation success as much as weed was to Al Gore when he invented the Internet; or heroin, cocaine, ketamine, ecstasy and booze are to an Amy Winehouse overdose.  Nothing weird though, just small things: like the light has to be out, and I like to play R&B music.  I actually never listen to R&B music, unless I am getting sexual.  It’s like, “Where everybody knows your name” to Cheers, whenever it comes on, Shelley Long appears, and there is occasion laughter.

I lit the candles: had my soft R&B playing, had my lotions lined up, and to top it all off invested the $1.99 for the Paris porn; because I love it when girls text during sex (or as my friend the M-Gap calls it Sexting.) This is where the story takes a turn for the worst. Apparently, in my pre-spank shower I must have knocked the “Bathroom emergency phone” off of its hook. The lobby had called the room a few times, but I did not hear it ring because I am like the Michael Jordan of bludgeoning the beefsteak, I can’t be raddled.  If I am launching the hand shuttle, you could tell me aliens just landed; and they were all horny Angelina Jollie look-a-likes, looking for single curly haired comedians named Matt, to have copious amounts of sex with, and that information would never reach my brain.

When a bathroom emergency phone is knocked off the hook, and the guest does not respond to calls, proper protocol; is to inform the police and paramedics.  I don’t know why they have to involve government officials, but I am glad they did because without them, this story would not be nearly as funny. So they knocked profusely on my door, and of course I did not hear them because when R Kelly is bumping I am a pumping. So, I am in the middle of doing some sloppy sign language, when all of a sudden the hotel clerk opens the door. She flashes on the lights, and in runs 2 paramedics wearing white gloves, and 3

china-police

 

policemen with guns drawn. I opened my eyes, and for a second thought it was part of my weird fantasy. Once it dawned on me they were real, I froze. Most people’s natural reaction would be to jump, and cover them selves with whatever was around. As for me, I just lay there staring at them with confusion like I just watched Memento.

Surprising enough, they just stood there staring right back. They were acting like it was the first time this has ever happened (insert awkward laugh.) I guess, I should take that as a compliment though. That at the site of my body, they didn’t run away screaming like Godzilla was attacking. They just stood in marvel (another awkward laugh.) Here we were; the police, with their guns drawn, and me with my gun drawn (so to speak,) at a crossroads, looking at each other like whoever stared the longest won a prize. After about a solid minute of awkward silence, in an attempt to save face, and follow through on his call of duty, one of the policmen said, “Mr. Baker, is everything OK?” I guess it is all anyone could say in that scenario. Once the words came out of his mouth, they all quickly turned around, and ran out of the room. I just sat their shell-shocked (still; disturbingly, with a woody.)

I guess it is not all that bad to get caught lynching the lizard, because the next day I found two extra bottles of lotion in my bathroom. That is my story about getting caught masturbating by the Chinese Government.

 

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Christina Ricci got me kicked out

It’s known amongst my friends, I tend to bet on virtually anything. I don’t know why I do it; it just seems like the best way to solve disagreements; if even the most mundane.

I once lost $50 on one game of Rock Paper Scissors. Another time, I bet $5 that my blood pressure was higher than my buddies; and won (But in the grand scheme of things, really lost.) Probably, my most ridiculous bet to date is I bet $100 (while drunk) that my friend’s favorite color was blue. What’s even more stupid is; I won (he was drunk too.)

Aside from betting, I am also the guy who will often come up with ridiculous ideas that I am too afraid to do myself. Most of the time, to see my crazy ideas in action, I will often pay my friends to do them; then sit back and laugh. Like the time I paid my buddy $15 to walk up to a group of hot girls and say: “Alright Ladies, Who wants herpes?”  I wasn’t laughing when he got one of there numbers, and I still had to pay him (I guess one of them did, really want herpes.) Or the time I convinced my buddy to get “Employees use the back entrance” tattooed on his lower back for $200 + tattoo costs, only to watch him bail at the site of the needle.

slothBoos, Comedy, and betting is pretty much how you can sum up a night with my buddies; and this night was no different. A couple of my buddies, and I decided to go to this cool, hip, punk-rock bar called Shorty’s. This is the kind of bar where if you don’t have 6 tattoos, and at least 2 facial/genitalia piercing’s, you get the “this person does not belong here” look. They look at you like you are Steven Segal in Acting Class. While entering the bar, I noticed a girl sitting at a booth, who looked just like Christina Ricci. I pointed her out to my buddies, and they both agreed that the girl looked like CR. Although, neither of them was convinced it was actually her. They had a decent point. This is a little hole in the wall bar. How would CR even know this place existed? One point; for my friends, team atheist. Then I realized whom we were talking about! This is the girl who was in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas!  Anyone who was in that movie has to have some idea of crazy bars that serve you drinks stiffer than Clay Aiken watching MMA.  One point for me, I am finally on the board. Although, it did not help my case that the people she was sitting with looked dingy. They were so dingy they made New York bums look like runway models. One guy was actually rocking the bald headed mullet with dreads. It looked like his dready mullet was so heavy, it pulled the rest of his hair right off the top of his head.  I am actually the last person to care about people’s looks, but this guy is the reason we got kicked out, so I feel like I can say whatever I want about a guy; who looked like the stunt double for Sloth in Goonies. One more point for my opposition.

My mind was running, rationalizing every reason CR would be at my favorite bar in Seattle. She might be with people, who think smoking cigarettes, and drinking is a substitute for bathing, but this is the girl who dated a mentally challenged guy in Pumpkin; so the people she was with did not surprise me. 1/2 point; for me, putting the score at 2 points opposition, 1 1/2 points me. Granted, this girl looked a little different than CR, but I just figured it was how she really looked.

ricciSo the bet was on! We set the amount at $50, but could not decide on who was going to ask. For me, there is no way I am going up to someone famous and drawing attention to him or her. Especially, when they might not want it. I was once with my friend in a crowded supermarket, when he saw Keifer Sutherland, and than yelled out to me: “Hey Matt, it’s the guy from 24.” I then watched everyone in the supermarket bombard Keifer and a simple task of buying Canadian bacon turned into a 45-minute autograph session for him. Even when I see celebrities I am very fond of I try to not bother them. I once stood next to Benjamin Gibbard for an entire show and did not say anything to him. I did get close enough to smell him though (in a non-creepy smelling way.) Than three weeks later, saw him at the Heathrow Airport and still kept my yapper zipped. I always toyed with the idea of just filing a restraining order against him, to see what would happen.

My friend Kevin, who took my bet, was confident it was not CR. He had no problem going up to her and just asking. Kevin lives for awkward moments. He is the only guy I know, who has been kicked out of a Halloween party for his costume, two years in a row. What it comes down to is he just does not give a shit. He’s like racecar driver with narcolepsy.

While we were outlining the details of how he was going to approach her, there was a large shriek. We turned our heads to see the perceived Christina Ricci lying on the floor, laughing hysterically at the fact she just fell, and shattered her drink all over the ground. One more check for my opposition, team rising confidence (3 to 1.5.) Kevin, at this point felt sympathy for me, and gave me a chance to back out of the bet. Claiming, that all I had to do was buy him a drink, and then we could all forget about this little Christinagate. I couldn’t back out; I was convinced it was her! I am the type of person that when I have my mind on something, there is nothing you can do to sway me. I am like a non-religious Billy Graham; committed to the truth as long as there are no facts involved.

At any rate, the plan was set. Kevin was to approach her when she went out for a smoke, and he was going to say to her: “Hey have we met before? What’s your name?” Which has got to be the best plan 3 inebriated dudes has ever come up with, in the history of men approaching a woman. The moment came when CR went outside for a smoke, and out followed Kevin. He was locked in on his prey. I felt like I was watching an episode of Planet Earth, but instead of a cheetah speeding after an antelope, it was a drunk comedian following creepily behind a famous girl. He was a man possessed; primarily with alcohol but he was possessed nonetheless. Here is how the dialogue went:

Kevin: “Hey can I bum a smoke?”

Christina: “Sure”

Kevin: “You look really familiar. Do I know you?”

Christina: “Nope”

Kevin: “I think I do, what’s your name”

Christina: “Bitch”

Kevin (sarcastically): “I guess I do know you”

Christina, then flicked her cigarette at Kevin, and got up and went back into the bar. Kevin, shortly after, returned to our table and described the interaction. At this point, we did not know that their conversation was going to be the end of our stay in the bar. However, we were soon to find out.

Kevin was now even more convinced that it was “Not” CR saying, “that it looked nothing like her up close.” So, I called the bet off. I said, “There is not sufficient evidence either way.” Kevin, frustrated with my unwillingness to believe him, said he would “try again.” Drunk at this point, Kevin, and my other drunken friend AG; storm right up to the booth where CR is sitting. She is ricci2sitting in the spot furthest away from the edge of the table, and with her, are 2 huge dudes, and a chick. Kevin walks up, interrupts their conversation, and says, “I realized how I think I know you. You look a lot like Christina Ricci. Has anyone ever told you that?” I admire his straightforwardness, and if this didn’t get an answer nothing would. Christina, visibly annoyed, and looking at him like he just walked through a Christian Bale scene, sarcastically says, “No! No one has ever told me that.”

They all just sat there in awkward silence; staring at Kevin with horrific looks on there faces like they were watching two girls one cup.  Kevin, trying to remedy the awkwardness with a laugh responded: “Well, nice talking to ya, Bitch!” He made what we call in the comedy world a “Callback” (which is a reference to a joke earlier,) and to us comedy aficionado’s, that’s fucking hilarious. Although, the dread headed mullet guy, who looked like he might be the son of the son of Sam; did not think it was so fucking hilarious.  He sprung out of his seat, like he just one a lifetime supply of PBR in an ugly contest, and goes to punch Kevin. When he went to hit Kevin, on his back swing, in all his dread headed mullet glory; he end’s up hitting the girl sitting behind him in the face, and knocks her beer all over CR. Christina shrieks; (like she normally does at bars,) but this time she is trying to stop good ol’ Hipzilla from beating Kevin like he owed him lunch money. CR was yelling, “it was a joke, it was a joke,” but man’s version of a manatee, was not hearing it. He was to busy standing 2 inches from Kevin’s face, explaining how he was going to rip off his neck, and shit into his torso. Looking back, I think it would have been that much funnier if while the guy was yelling at him 2 inches from his face, Kevin just went in and gave him a little peck on the lips.

During all the commotion, the bartender, leaps over the bar, and jumps in between dread headed mullet guy and Kevin. He was yelling at the top of his lungs for them to “break it up.” After things were settled, the bartender, tells us that we “are not welcome here anymore,” and that we “needed to leave” before he beat our ass. WTF? I said to the bartender: “what about this guy? He’s the one who is causing the ruckus.” The bartender just smiled and said, “you need to get out.”

So to date, we still don’t know if it was really the Christina Ricci. However, I still paid Kevin anyways. I don’t know if I paid him because I felt bad for what happened, or if I subconsciously knew one day I would want to write about it, and I could use that as a bribe.  So Christina Ricci if you are reading this, I want my $50 back, BITCH!

 

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Words I have invented

I am sort of a slang connoisseur. I am a student of the slang world. I love making up my own words and seeing other people use them also.

There are a lot of ways to go about making up your own slang. One popular way is to combine two words to make one. Some of my favorite slang words using this concept are:

Multislacking- Doing multiple slacker-esque things concurrently.

Technosexual- A person, male or female, who is so deeply enthralled with technology they discuss it with a level of passion that most people reserve for sex.

Nonversation- The type of conversation held with another person when you really do not wish to talk to them. It consists of short and to the point replies, which do not add to the conversation and make it hard for the other person to continue.

Slacktivist- political activist who has been active in the past, but in the present mostly talks about politics, drinks beer, smoke’s weed, and has sex with other activists.

Sexsuade- To convince someone to agree to, accept, or do something, usually by using the promise of sex

Another teqnique that is popular is adding the word “Man” in front of everything. Like for example:

Manscaping- when a man grooms himself.

Manscara- what you say when you see a guy wearing mascara.

Manswer- is a very manly answer.

Mansectomy- A procedure for removing excess fat (man-boobs) from a male chest.

The great thing about slang is, you can make up words that sound cool, and just integrate them into your everyday dialogue. Then when people hear you say it, they are like man, “I need to get hip on today’s slang.” The cool thing is when you hear someone you know start using word you have invented. When I was 18, I lived in a house with 6 people in there mid 20’s, and one who was 40. Although a huge age difference, Martin was really cool. The only problem was that he was unfamiliar with the slang we all used. He was always asking us to give definitions to the weird words we used so regularly. One day me and the other people in there 20’s decided to come up with a word that we would all use, but use in different ways to mess with Martin. The word we decided on was Crunk. Although now, according to the slang dictionary crunk means crazy and drunk, at the time it was a word that had not been used. So we set off on the crunk prank. We all used the word differently. When he would ask what it meant we would all give him a different answer. For me I told him, “You only use it to describe something that was disgusting.” My friend Terrin told him, “Crunk is someone who is a crusty punk.” And Megan told him, “It is something that is really exciting.” He generally seemed perplexed by this mysterious hybrid word that everyone used, but could be used in so many different ways. A few weeks went by and the use of the word seized and no one told Martin it was a joke. We only realized he didn’t know it was a joke until we had a party and I overheard a drunk Martin trying to fit in with all the younger people by throwing the word Crunk in most of his conversations. I did not want to tell him there because honestly, I was enjoying people look at him like he was Rain Man. It was like a MasterCard commercial because it was priceless. The next day I informed him of the joke and we shared a good laugh.

Here are a few words I have invented:

Hallahdino- A brazialian Hallah

Badonkulars- when you see a badonkadonk butt far away.

Strollonsticate- when you are leaving by way of walking.

Sloshy Slosh- when someone is having sex while you are in the room and can hear it.

Rollonsticate- when you are leaving by way of driving

Spliggity Splow- A sound affect you make when presenting or receiving something

Mahallah- A Hawaiian hallah.

Frontedonupon- when someone front’s on you, and gets away with it.

Won Ton Bon Cron- when a food is exceptionally good. It can also be broken up into Won Ton or Bon Cron.

What are some of your favorite slang words?

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Tear Away Underwear

Sex has made so many technologic advances over the last decade. Inventing things from Viagra to Vagina flavored Bolognese; the technology seems to be endless.  Although these inventions have helped to liberate people’s sexuality, sexventors have failed to cure one of the most awkward scenarios that arise in bed, taking your clothes off. How many times has the mood of the foreplay been ruined by the un-sexiness which is getting naked? Hell, I have even turned myself off trying to get my drawers off while juggling. Many say, that keeping a person turned on, while getting your underwear off, is impossible. You have read about it being possible in history books, and on episodes of Ripley’s Believe it Or Not, but no one has ever truly encountered such thing.

People have tried to solve this sexually catastrophic event by inventing things like the crotch less panties, edible underwear and underwear1the hole in the front of boxers. These were all noble attempts, but all fell short. For generations this problem has plagued the great sex minds of our times, until today. Today, I present a product that gives those plagued minds the reacharound it deserves. Today I present to you, Tear Away Underwear.

Underwear, that by the powers of Velcro allows you to rip them off and be ready to go like a donkey in Tijuana. Imagine foreplay, with no fumbling, grumbling or stumbling. Drive your partner wild when you rip off your undies like a basketball player coming off the bench. You will be prepared to defend, dunk and if you are lucky, lead your team to a come from behind victory. Finally a product, that presents people with the option of a better life. Not only will this amazing product revolutionize intimacy it will also advance many other fields; like the medical profession. Think if you happened to be at the hospital unconscious; the tear away underwear allows people to get your clothes off faster. This helps the work of so many including doctors, nurses and birthday clowns.

Soon, the sound of Velcro, will be something everyone associates with hot fornication. Just the sound of Velcro ripping, will turn people on just like when they hear creaking beds, water slapping, or when I see a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth. Velcro will Underwearforever be linked to sex culture and be mentioned in the same breath with Jenna Jamison, Ron Jeremy and baby albino lamas. Equipped with a full access Velcro connection in the front, allowing you to take them off without even removing your pants. Think of those days where you just need a little more air down there, but you got those pesky tighty-whities on. Or the days you need to masturbate during a work meeting, but you can’t because you decided to wear that underwear your grandma stuffed your stalking with. The Tear Away Underwear makes all those fantasies a reality.

Tear Away Underwear; it will change how you fondle yourself under a newspaper in the park. Buy today, and get a pair of free tear away business socks.

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Drunk Dial Phone

Today’s MDI might not only be the best, but certainly is the most practical. It came to me while I was as drunk. I was as drunk as that Jewish person caught on tape making anti-Mel Gibson remarks. Many great inventions have been created while under the influence of alcohol. Without booze, things like Motorized bar stools, beer pong and high school musical on ice would seize to exist. Even, 2 of Brittany Spears’s 3 kids have all been invented while drunk (3rdbrittney you can blame that on coke.)

Many people have used alcohol to advance their own creativity. Think of where Johnny Cash would be today if he did not drink: probably dead! Do you think Johnny Cash would have been any good if he weren’t beating up his liver like it was a scene out of a Tina Turner documentary? My gut feeling tells me the same thing my magic eight ball app on my Iphone does, “Outlook not so good.” My point is; it should come as no shock to hear that alcohol is the catalyst for this MDI.

Here is the pitch:

There is a global epidemic sweeping the world and it affects all of us. This pandemic is so dangerous, it makes Malaria shrivel up and cough. It chops the limbs off of leprosy.

drunkphoneIt even makes swine flu look like a made up disease by the government to stimulate the economy so we don’t spend our money on spring break in Mexico. Yes my friends, I am talking about Drunk Dialing.

You might have heard of it, but might not be aware how it affects you. Have you ever had a few drinks and decided it was a good time to call your boss, your spouse, or your boss’s spouse and tell them something you should not tell them sober, let alone drunk? If you answered, “Yes;” Drunk Dialing might affect you. Have you ever been tanked and decided to call your ex to tell them you are sorry and want them back? Instead you get their machine and instead leave a 15-minute awkward message of non-cohesive blabber like you are Mike from swingers. If this has happened to you, then you might have the disease and not even know it. Aside from not being good for each other, and I found someone better, Madeupfacts.com credits Drunk Dialing as the #3 reason for breakups not given a second chance.

This disease not only infects humans daily, it has mutated into another deadly disease, Drunk Texting. Drunken Texting is the SARS of the telephone. It is spreading rapidly, and everyone blames it on the Chinese.

Today, this disease runs so ramped, the first thing people do when they wake up after a long night of drinking, is check their outgoing texts and calls from the night before.  In the medical profession, this morning after activity is often referred to as Booze Clues. Here are some of my own drunken texts, I have found the next morning.

  1. To my friend, “Six seconds ago I was confused and now I am here”
  2. To a girl I was interested in: “If you wer here, that wood make me shit”
  3. Meant for Molly, “I want to be inside you.” Sent to my mom
  4. One I received, “I am not sure, but I think a stripper squirted breast milk in my beer”
  5. To my cousin, “I think wyr all gunna dy”
  6. From my friend (female,) “I think Darth Vader is stalking me.”

breathometer-2-250x300I am such a notorious drunk dialer that once my friends took the phone from me, deeming me to drunk to be making phone calls. The funny thing is, they still made me drive them home.  Thanks to my friend’s; I realized I had a problem. I thought to myself that there had to be other people who shared this disease. I started searching for other people online and found that there is a whole website dedicated to drunk texters. Here is one of the best one from their site: “noo wooreez bout me. i am drancking sakee and i am goin to danse on a pole with my cab deriver jeezus. he sed i can deverginifry him. sexsexsex. loving you, barbie”

So today I present to you, a product that is the cure for this growing life ruinous; The Drunk Dial Phone. Utilizing today’s breathalyzing technology the Drunk Dial phone comes complete with a built in Breathalyzer that prevents you from using your phone if your blood alcohol level is over the legal limit.  We at the Institute for People After Beer Shouldn’t Telephone (PABST,) are committed to the philosophy; when you breathe everyone’s at ease. We want to make sure; when you see double, there’s no trouble. The Drunk Dial phone will save millions from what we at PABST call the, “Day after regret.” Think of a world cured of 4:00 a.m. booty calls from someone you have not talked to in 3 years. Or, phone calls where the drunken caller treats the phone like the louder they shout into it, the better you will understand them. Imagine a world free of having to explain to your mom why you texted her the night before, calling her a stupid swamp donkey. Or being fired for calling your boss and telling them you want to staple a burning spreadsheet to their face.

Listen to what others are saying about the Drunk Dial Phone:

“The drunk dial phone has saved me from embarrassing phone calls. If only this was invented 3 years ago, we would all be able to talk to our kids. ” Alec Baldwin

“This is probably the greatest invention since the telephone itself” Alexander Graham Bell

We at PABST  are dedicated to a brighter tomorrow or at least one you don’t have to waste apologizing. Don’t wait, Get the DD phone today and put your worries away. Now available on the I-Phone.

 

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Cruising

Planning your next vacation can be hard. With so many places to see in the world, and such little time, it can be stressful to try and make the best decision. If you haven’t already considered cruising as an option for your next furlough, let me tell you some of the benefits of a cruise you might not be aware of.

  • Always to tired to go to the after party? You don’t have to feel left out anymore, because on a cruise the after hours party begins at 8:00 p.m and ends at 8:32 pm. Be in your bed in time to watch that re-run of Hogans Heroes.
  • Tired of getting nickel and dimed on your trips? On a ship, everything is free (except for a small fee on everything.)
  • Want to feel youthful? Cruises are the only place where being under 70 makes you look like Justin Bieber.
  • You get to go to places that no one else in the world even thinks about visiting.  Skagway Alaska, Costa Maya Mexico, Sydney Nova Scotia, see for yourself why no one has heard of these places.
  • Love to have clean hands? Then cruising is for you. We have 5,072 hand sanitizing stations (one every 5 yards,) so you can keep those hands as clean as a baby’s bottom.
  • Hate buying expensive drinks? Just add water to the hand sanitizer and you get Moonshine. Add a little Ketchup and you get a nice Merlot. Never spend a dime when you are drinking cruise booze.
  • All cruises have a minimum of 4 funeral directors to choose from.
  • Every bathroom has an adult diaper changing station.
  • Don’t run around town trying to find the one thing you need. All the buffets on a cruise serve Metamucil.
  • Hate holding that beer while you pee guys? All the bathrooms have Beer holders next to the urinal.
  • Love eating? It’s the only place you can have dessert for breakfast, booze for brunch and have Adult Onset Diabetes before dinner.
  • Tired of going to the gym and not being able to find a machine to work out on? All the exercise facilities on your ship will be completely empty and the machines untouched.
  • Since cruises normally sail in international waters there are no penalties for driving drunk on your mobility scooters.
  • Are you claustrophobic and want to overcome your phobia? What better way than having a bathroom in your cabin, no bigger than a mini cooper; specifically designed to help you conquer your fear. Enjoy the sensation of being able to shower while you poop.
  • Having a hard time gaining weight? If so, you should know the average cruiser gains on average 8 pounds.

We hope that you take this information to heart and really think about what you read today when you are planning your next vacation. Remember, cruise ships are not just where old people go to be bored anymore.

This bulletin was brought to you by, the association to prevent people from cruising.

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Jokes that turn a crowd off

The great thing about live theatre is that anything can happen at any given moment. I have had fights break out amongst the guests, audience members so drunk they throw up and even people starting fights after getting thrown up on.  I have had outdoor shows that in the middle it started pouring rain, which I took as God saying, “This is just not a funny bit.”

Once while I was performing in Mexico, I had a woman jump out of her seat screaming at the top of her lungs like she was overacting in some sort of b-grade horror movie. I thought for sure hermetshe was in serious trouble. As it turned out, a small hermit crab had strolled over her foot, which led to the hysterics. However, I think I am going to cast her in my upcoming film, “Hermit crabs, nothing to laugh about.”

Just two weeks later while performing at the same venue, I was attacked on stage by a giant moth. Not Mothera big, but definitely big enough to take down a small, wounded, blind puppy . That’s the beauty of performing “live” in front of an audience. Unusual things can happen at anytime and often do. That’s where great stories come from. If your there, you get to say stuff like, “I was there when Kramer lost his shit.” That’s a story everyone wants to hear. These are the sort of stories that make you think your cooler then everyone else.

As a performer when things arise that are not a planned part of the show, there are two ways to deal with it:

#1 (the not so best way) – ignore it. Keep going on with the show and pretend it never happened.

#2 (which is the best way) – Roll with it. Accept it and use it as part of the show.

The entertainers who use practice #1 are the type of comedians who craft their routine to perfection. Their set is so well refined, one unsuspected event during their performance can derail the whole show. The type of performers who employ technique #2 are the people who are great at improv and welcome any sort of “off script” moments. To me, those are the performers you want to watch. They can take that awkward moment and turn into something magical and unique for an audience. They appreciate your authenticity and willingness to cater your show to their experience.  When you do it well, there is not a lot you can do wrong after that. It’s like the audience gives you a “get out of bad joke free card”.

The opposite can be said too. Sometimes, you just can’t make it entertaining. There are times that you cannot get the audience to focus back on you after they just watched a drunk woman pour a pitcher of beer on her husband’s head because he was texting another woman. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work out. If you can’t make what just happened hilarious, then you loose control of the room and probably will never win them back.

Since I am a self-loathing performer, I am not going to tell you about the hundreds of times I turned weird things that happen during the show into a positive experience. Rather,  I will tell you about several times I dealt with situations poorly. I want to remind you why you are reading this. It’s probably because you are a fan of my work, so please keep that in mind while you continue to read this. For comical purposes, I share this to see how failing can eventually be funny. So don’t get turned off like every girl does when I tell her that my avatar is a fifth degree black belt. Deal? Okay, so enjoy my mistakes.

I was scheduled to follow a very talented Michael Jackson impersonator at an event. He had the voice and swagger of MJ, even though the impersonator was a 7-year-old Asian boy. He did a solid thirty minutes of slick dance moves, moonwalks, crotch grabbing and the audience went 195crazy after his final song. It would have been a standing ovation, but the age of the crowd prohibited them from getting to their feet quickly without at least mild heart pain, but they did cheer loudly.

I came on stage right after him. As a comedian you have to always acknowledge what everyone is thinking about. Wanting to keep the show flowing without a hitch; I decided to make a joke about “Little Michael.” So, I came on stage and said, “How about that Little Michael? I am sure the real Michael would have loved him…. In more ways then one.”

If there were even one person who liked me after that joke, there surely would be none after my second joke. With the lack of laughter at my first joke, I broke the number one rule of comedy, which is to “READ YOUR AUDIENCE”. I thought the first joke would be hilarious and instead of stopping the bit when they failed to laugh and going into my normal routine, I continued on my “Little Michael” diatribe. I went with a joke that I thought would save me and it got big laughs from the test audience in my mind. However, it turned out to be the nail in the coffin of my show. The Joejacksonjoke to end all laughs that would force the crowd to turn on me like I was Kanye West at the MTV Music Awards was as follows. I said, “I would have loved to see the look on Joe Jackson’s face if Michael Jackson was born Asian.”

Yes folks, that would be the start of the show and the end of the audience liking me. They absolutely hated me. At this point in the show, Hitler would have gotten bigger laughs. Forty-five minutes to go and there was no “Remember the Time” when I didn’t say jokes that dug me a hole harder to get out of than the national deficit.

Another one of my favorite stories includes “Jokes I have said that made the crowd not like me,”. For example, during my show I do a joke about, “if I were in a band, the name of my band would be the Jehovah’s Witness Protection Program”. I follow it up with a few other band names that I think would be awesome to have. It generally gets decent laughs, but not on this day. Jehovah

I was performing at an event, and everything in the show was running smoothly. I was getting laughs at all the normal spots and the crowd seemed to really be behind me.  I am in the middle of the band name bit and I do the Jehovah’s Witness joke, which receives the same laugh it always does. Although, once the laughter subsided, a woman jumps out of her seat urgently like she was being chased by Freddy Krueger and yells, “Hey! That’s not funny. I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.”

The crowd fell silent. It was the sort of awkward silence where people are frozen and don’t know what to do. It felt like they all just witnessed a kid get hit by their drunk dad and was so much in shock that they froze.

I could have just moved on, brushed it off and pretended I never even heard her, but I couldn’t. Everyone else heard her and now they were all waiting for my response. This sort of thing happens when someone had just been slapped and everyone who witnessed sat in anticipation to see if there would be a fight.  It felt like I just got served.

What sucks about all of this is that she stopped me from getting through the bit. If only she would have waited. She would have eventually realized that I make fun of all kinds of different groups of people. She would have heard the rest of the jokes instead of cutting me off and probably would not have felt so attacked or alienated. However, she didn’t and now I was forced to deal with it in order to regain the comic momentum that was now lost because of this religious whistleblower.

crowd1Without thinking, I said, “You can’t be a Jehovah’s Witness, because you are watching my show and my show is fun.” Instead of the crowd responding with a huge eruption of laughter that normally follows a good heckler line, they responded the same way you would if you were to watch a handicapped kid fall down the stairs—there was only an audible gasp. The audience just joined all of my ex-girlfriends and friends who have sex with my ex-girlfriends on the “We hate Matt” bandwagon.  Although this bandwagon was no longer a wagon, it became a very wide semi-truck load. The audience suddenly forgot about all the laughs we had together and the times they were awoken at 8:00 am on a Sunday to these proselytizers. It’s as if they were all suddenly converted to be Jehovah Witness’s and were offended along with their religious counterpart.

There was no recovering after that. I did my best to do damage control from there on out. I told them a series of lies in an effort to win them back. I told them how great a crowd they were and that I wished every crowd was like them. However, my pathetic attempt to win them over with affection failed. The damage had been done and they were immune to my attempts to woo them back.

The next story can only be described by this bumper sticker slogan; “same shit, different religion.” Trade one annoying doorknocker for another—the Mormons. I know. Just those words make you turn off your lights, close your blinds, lock your door and drink a big cup of coffee. mormon

It was a cold, misty afternoon (I always wanted to start a story like that.) Okay, it was a sunny Sunday afternoon and I was performing at a county fair. Certainly a clear indication that my life had not turned out the way it was supposed to. My parents would have been more proud if they caught me smoking crystal meth, which is easy to get at county fairs, or so I hear. Performing at a county fair is not an easy thing. It’s one small step above performing comedy at a kindergarten school for the deaf. I say that because it’s hard enough to get people to laugh. And even harder when you throw in a crowd who are stuffing their face with elephant ears and funnel cakes. It becomes nearly impossible.

Usually when no one is laughing during my show, I will start trying new jokes that have not been fully thought out. My theory is, if they are not laughing at my good stuff, why waste it? Why not try out some new jokes and maybe I can get one or two jokes that I can use in the future on people who actually care. That way the show is not a total waste for everyone. At least someone (aka. me) get something out of it.

The timeslot where laughter is scheduled to appear after my jokes was replaced with silence. So, I decided to try a new joke. The new unformed joke I delivered was as follows: “I know my material can be edgy. So much so, I was banned from performing in Utah. They only allowed me to perform when I agreed to wear their magic underwear.” If the silence was not a good enough indicator on what a crappy joke it was, a woman jumped out of her seat with such urgency, like she was about to stop me from killing a puppy and yelled, “That is not funny.”

I am used to people telling me, “That isn’t funny”, but something was a little off in the tone of this woman’s voice. There was more urgency in her tone, like she had to stop me from telling a secret about the Mormon’s that would spoil their plan to take over the world one soda company at a time. She was wearing an apron for a lemonade booth that was to the left of the stage and was standing, staring at me with distain on her face. She yelled at me again, this time saying, “I am Mormon and I don’t appreciate that!”

Trying to learn from my Jehovah’s Witness encounter, I tried to manage this confrontation a little better. I thought that maybe by talking to her directly and finding out about her would endear me to everyone, so I asked her, “Do you work here?” She swiftly replied, “Yes, right over there at the lemonade booth and I don’t appreciate being made fun of.” In attempt to establish some sort of friendly dialogue with her, I asked, “Are you a strict Mormon?” She yelled proudly, “Very.” Without thinking how it would sound, I responded, “If you are a strict Mormon, then what are you doing working on a Sunday?” My attempt to be friendly felt like I was trying to challenge her religious faith. I could see the crowd shifting in their seats from their discomfort, like they were all trying to scratch their ass without using both hands at the same time. The dumb-ass that I am, decided to try and turn my challenging statement into something humorous, In an attempt to save the show that was getting away from me, I said “It’s just a joke. Don’t get your sacred garments in a bunch.”

crowdThe voices in my head said, “Nice one Matt! Great joke.” My inner self was high-fiving with how quick I was to come up with this comedy gold. The voices in the crowd did not share the same thoughts. Their voices simultaneously shouted something that rhymes with “glue.” I tried powering through it and winning them back with my best material, but the proverbial arcade game had no more credits and the bartender was yelling, “Get the hell out or I’ll hit you with this crowbar.” I did what I thought was best, which was to thank them and end the show right there, leaving twenty minutes early.

Looking back, I find it interesting that in a show filled with jokes about deaf people, blind people, narcoleptics, midgets and people with turrets syndrome, this woman chose to get upset at the one joke that is actually a choice, which is to wear long underwear. Ultimately, I hate bad shows but I love stories. By sacrificing my suffering on stage and the audience suffering due to my stupid comments, I hope these stories have done what I was unable to do in the three shows listed—to make you laugh.