tumblr. Not a member of #teamfollowback, but you shouldn’t let that little fact stop you from following me on tumblr & twitter. I’ll probably still use this blog put up sketches and any other longer pieces that I’ve written, though. And in case you’re wondering what Jerry’s been up to, just a bunch of stand up, writing, improv, sweating, starving, and other silly artsy-fartsy stuff.
- Be less awful.
- Stop being so awesome at procrastinating.
Wait. That can’t be right.
(Checks calendar again.)
Oh, fuck me.
Seriously, though, in addition to reading 35 books, continuing the Writing and Improv programs at Second City, and the two up above, performing stand up (yes, friends, acquaintances, and internet randos, you read that right — Jerry now does stand up) 100 times, or, more realistically speaking, as many times as I possibly can (gotta make up for lost time, you know?), is also one of my New Year’s resolutions. So if you’ve been wondering why Jerry hasn’t been updating as much as he used to (and let’s face it, we all know you have), now you know: he’s been too busy making a fool of himself onstage for the amusement of others. (And by “others”, what he really means is “other stand up comedians”*. These are open mics after all.)
But if you’re worried that I’m going to abandon this here blog, you should probably stop, because there are way more important things to worry about. For example, I’m pretty sure someone is being raped right now. It’s horrible and I wish that wasn’t the case, but it’s probably true, so you should definitely worry about that person and not this shitty blog. Also, I love this shitty blog way too much just to let it float around in the big e-toilet that is the blogosphere. I definitely love it more than I love you. And I think you know how much I love you, rando internet blog reader person/spambot.
*Typing that felt weird.
My second attempt at an “Inappropriate Response” sketch.
MISS SMITH: First off, I want to thank the two of you for meeting me tonight to talk about your daughter, Becky. It always warms my heart when I see parents like yourselves take the time to …
MR. JOHNSON: You have a really nice ass. Do you work out?
MISS SMITH (shocked): …
(While MR. JOHNSON waits for MISS SMITH to answer, MRS. JOHNSON continues to sit there with a big smile on her face.)
MR. JOHNSON (louder): I said you have a really nice …
MISS SMITH: Yes, I heard you. Thank you. Well, the reason that I …
MR. JOHNSON: You’re welcome.
MISS SMITH: … asked the two of you to meet with me is because of Becky’s recent behavior in class.
(MISS SMITH pauses for a moment, half-expecting one of the parents to say something. Neither one does, but MR. JOHNSON does wink at her.)
MISS SMITH: I’m concerned because she used to be such a sweet little angel …
MRS. JOHNSON (concerned, simultaneous w/MR. JOHNSON): Sweet little angel?! Oh, no! What did we do wrong?
MR. JOHNSON (simultaneous w/MRS. JOHNSON, last sentence is directed to MRS. JOHNSON): Sweet little angel?! Wow. How did you mess this up?
MISS SMITH: But just the other day she tried to kiss all the boys in her class…
MRS. JOHNSON: But isn’t that normal? I mean, I did the same thing when I was her age.
MR. JOHNSON: Yeah, so did I.
MISS SMITH: Well, that’s something that’s usually frowned upon for first graders. She has also stopped sharing with the other students…
MRS. JOHNSON (relieved, simultaneous w/MR. JOHNSON): Oh, thank god! I thought she did something bad.
MR. JOHNSON (simultaneous w/MRS. JOHNSON): You had me scared for a moment there, lady.
MR. JOHNSON (to MISS SMITH): That’s good. We don’t believe in sharing; Which is why we sleep in separate bedrooms.
(MR. JOHNSON gets up and walks over to MISS SMITH and starts stroking her hand.)
MISS SMITH: Mr. Johnson! What are you doing?
MR. JOHNSON: As you can imagine, Miss Smith, it gets a little lonely up there, and down here, if you know…
MISS SMITH: Please return to your seat, Mr. Johnson. Now.
(MR. JOHNSON returns to his seat.)
MISS SMITH: Ok. Wow. Back to Becky. Just the other day she got in a fight with another student…
(Upon hearing this, MR. and MRS. JOHNSON jump up out of their seats to celebrate and high-five each other. Still pumped, MRS. JOHNSON claps enthusiastically while MR. JOHNSON fist-pumps.)
MRS. JOHNSON (simultaneous w/MR. JOHNSON, while clapping): Alright! Yeah! Way to go, Becky!
MR. JOHNSON (simultaneous w/MRS. JOHNSON, while fist-pumping): Whooo! Yeah! I’ve never been so proud!
MRS. JOHNSON (to MISS SMITH): Was the other kid black?
MISS SMITH: What? No!
MR. JOHNSON: Mexican?
MRS. JOHNSON: Asian?
MISS SMITH: Look, I’m not here to tell you two how to raise your child, but she beat the other kid up pretty bad…
MRS. JOHNSON: How bad?
MISS SMITH: It was bad. There was blood everywhere…
MR. JOHNSON: Just blood? Wow. How disappointing.
MISS SMITH: No, what is disappointing is that before all of this, Becky was a model student…
MRS. JOHNSON (upset): Wait… what did you call her?
MISS SMITH (confused): I called her a model student?
MRS. JOHNSON: How dare you call my daughter that? The nerve of you. You know what you’re a horrible person who has no business teaching young children. I want you to know that tomorrow I will call the school principal and demand that you be fired. (To MR. JOHNSON) Come on, we’re leaving.
(As THE JOHNSON walk off stage, MISS SMITH breathes a sigh of relief and starts getting her papers together to leave. A brief moment later, MR. JOHNSON reappears.)
MR. JOHNSON: Miss Smith, I wanted to apologize to you on behalf of my wife. Ever since Fox canceled her favorite show, America’s Most Wanted, she’s been on edge. Anyway, are you free Friday night? I know of a nice place down…
MISS SMITH: Get out. Now.
MR. JOHNSON: Ok. Alright. Calm down. You have a right to be upset. That was totally unappropriate of me, asking my daughter’s teacher out. What was I thinking? Look, let’s just start all over again from the beginning.
MISS SMITH: Ok.
MR. JOHNSON: Good, good. Ok, well, my name is Mr. Johnson. Pleasure to meet you. (Shakes her hand.) Do you want to have sex with me?
MISS SMITH: That’s it. I’m calling the cops.
Can’t really remember what happened in Jan.
I visited Chicago for the first time. Neither one of us would be the same after I left.
(Ok, well maybe Chicago stayed the same.)
(OR IS IT TOO SOON TO TELL?)
(It’s probably not.)
Can’t really remembered what happened in Feb. either.
I got laid off! This was actually pretty awesome because I kinda hated my job and it directly lead to me meeting my MVP of 2011: funemployment!
MARCH – AUGUST
Look for work. Daydream about Chicago. Surf the web for hours on end. Daydream about Chicago some more. Write. Netflix. Wash. Daydream about Chicago. Repeat.
Went to Chicago, Vegas, & Mexico. I’m pretty sure the only other people who go to all three of those places in the same month are businessmen and high-class, bilingual escorts.
Oh, I just sold my car, packed my bags, and moved to Chicago. You know, nothing important or life changing or awesome.
I’m just kidding! IT WAS TOTALLY IMPORTANT AND LIFE CHANGING AND AWESOME.
I cleaned a bathtub for the first time and I hope I have to never do anything that disgusting ever again.
Went back to Houston for the holidays and came back to Chicago for the chuckles.
All in all, I’d have to say 2011 was… aw, fuck it, who cares? It’s 2012 now and has been for 14 days now. So here’s to a slightly better than average year everybody.
(A department store.)
WIFE: I just know she’s here! I can feel it in my bones!
HUSBAND: Are you sure that’s not the jet lag that you’re feeling? And how do you know she’s a she?
WIFE: Of course the Loch Ness monster is a she! Why else do you think she’s called “Nessie”? Wow, what an unbelievably stupid question — I can’t believe you even asked me that.
HUSBAND: I just don’t understand why we’re spending our 20th anniversary at a department store in the middle of nowhere Scotland looking for something that doesn’t exist when we could be sipping margaritas in Mexico or eating hotcakes in Canada?
WIFE: Goddammit, You KNEW when you married me that finding Nessie was my life-long dream, so will you stop crying like a little bitch? You’re ruining this for me!
HUSBAND: Ok, fine. Can you at least explain to me why we’re here instead of at the lake?
WIFE: Pretend that you’re Nessie. Go on, pretend.
(HUSBAND closes his eyes and holds his index and middle fingers up to his temples.)
HUSBAND: Ok, I’m Nessie.
WIFE: Well, it’s been scientifically proven that you don’t live at Loch Ness, so, obviously, you don’t live there. Now where would you go if you didn’t want people to find you?
HUSBAND: Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to pretend that I was Nessie. And, obviously, Nessie didn’t answer because Nessie doesn’t exist.
(WIFE smacks HUSBAND hard in the arm.)
WIFE: Stop fucking around! Nessie does exist and my gut tells me she’s here! And I can’t wait to find her! We’re going to take so many pictures! And for our Christmas cards, we can photoshop a little Santa hat on top of Nessie’s head…
(Right on cue, a large figure walks behind the WIFE and taps her on her shoulder. The WIFE turns around to see who it is.)
WIFE (at the top of her lungs): AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
(WIFE, in shock, runs around in a circle while wildly waving her arms before collapsing in the middle of the stage.)
HUSBAND: No way … It can’t be? Nessie?
(WIFE gets back up and runs around the stage one more time while screaming and waving her arms before collapsing in the middle of the stage.)
HUSBAND: I must be dreaming. Or maybe I’m dead and this is hell? Yes, that explains things! The plane crashed on the way to Scotland, I’m in Hell, and you’re the devil!
NESSIE: Yeah, I don’t really know what you’re talking about.
HUSBAND: That’s because you don’t exist, right?
NESSIE: No — it’s actually because I’m a monster.
HUSBAND: Ah. Makes sense. Anyway, I can’t believe that my wife was right. Why are you here?
NESSIE: I live here. I mainly stay over there.
HUSBAND: The lingerie section? Really?
NESSIE: Oh yeah. No one ever goes over there.
HUSBAND: Why’s that?
NESSIE: Have you seen some of the women here? And just between the two of us, Scottish men are way more interested in their sheep than they are their wives. Anyway, I’m about to leave. I just wanted to say hi to your wife. I always try to interact with my biggest fans, but I think that might be the first time I made someone faint twice.
HUSBAND: Yeah, she’s something else. Don’t flatter yourself, though, she did the exact same thing on our 10th year anniversary. We were in Cuba and she claimed she saw Tupac.
NESSIE: Ha! Hey, you should come join me. I’m meeting a couple of my friends at a pub close by. Maybe you’ve heard of them: Bigfoot and El Chupacabra?
HUSBAND: WHAT? NO WAY! BIGFOOT?!
NESSIE: Don’t forget El Chupacabra!
HUSBAND: Eh. He’s alright. BUT BIGFOOT? FUCK, YEAH, I’LL JOIN YOU! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? LET’S GO!
(HUSBAND and NESSIE run off stage.)
If you live anywhere other than Chicago or Toronto, and/or don’t consider yourself to be a huge comedy nerd, then you’re probably not going to like this book very much. Or maybe at all. Who knows? But if you’re like me and just recently moved to Chicago and signed up to take classes at Second City, then you may also think that this is one of the GREATEST BOOKS EVER WRITTEN. (You may be a little biased, too, but I’ll be willing to let that slide. Just as long as you promise me that you won’t turn into the guy who wants to improvise a musical scene every time he gets on the train. Please, I beg you; Don’t become that guy. NO ONE LIKES HIM.)