Hot Pockets for Christmas
I remember taking a journalism class in high school that said when you write a story you should always end back where you started so the reader feels like the story has resolved. I have no idea if she was right but it makes enough sense, so of course I had to end that last blog at the perfect place with a bow on the end. This one’s sort of related, so I started writing it at the end but it reminded of another story and I figured I would just cheat and make this a different blog and see where it goes. I think about alcohol a lot. Especially when I’m thinking about high school journalism class, because I was always drunk. Just kidding, see now that I know my dad is reading this. I can’t let a joke that’s not true just go without a caveat. So while we’re discussing things, I totally never masturbate that much. It’s a sin. lol. (I don’t think he’s gonna buy that.) Not that I’m worried about my dad thinking I have a drinking problem, because he should know I don’t because I’m pretty sure he would know. My dad called me the morning of my first hangover and called me out on it. He was pretty experienced in those symptoms. We still have barely talked about his drug use. I think he’d prefer it that way. He usually just glosses over it without the details. He’s good now. That’s all that matters. My dad told me he used cocaine on accident one time. We were in his office with a bunch of advertising people at the station. They were trying to get ahold of this guy who was super flakey and my dad, forgetting I’m in the room, goes “He reminds me of me when I was on coke.” I remember opening for the cast of whose line is it anyway. I’m hanging in the green room there’s bottles of booze everywhere, drinking, smoking. They’re sharing stories “Remember that one time we were in Amsterdam, smoking hash in the taxi cab.” I’m like “nooo. it’s ruining this image I’ve had of you since middle school.”
My brother and I were going to the same college and he somehow talked them into letting him live in a sweet apartment instead of the college housing. He was older and much more experienced with getting what he wanted. He threw a party at his apartment one time. Naturally I was invited. I probably wouldn’t have been on the guest list if we weren’t related, thats what I mean by naturally. Keith and I weren’t always friends growing up. Once I hit 16ish I think we both grew up and were like “whatever”. College is where we started bonding a little more. I think after college has been the greatest. Now we have a great relationship. Sort of. We’ll get back to that. I think I had like 3 drinks at this party. I had drank a few times before but not that much. I don’t remember when I fell in love with alcohol. Besides in the womb. (Again. Jokes. lol. Although it might explain some of the retardation.) but I do know I started to over do it whenever it came to trying to get laid. I was always nervous, so I would drink to get her drunk enough to wanna get with me and enough to kill any chance of an erection as a fresh 19 year old trying to lose his virginity. Wow. This post is all over the place.
The point I’m getting at is I was drunk and I
slept Passed Out on my brothers couch. I don’t remember why, but my dad called me that next morning … afternoon. I answered the phone all groggy and he was like “Have a little drink last night?” or something snappy and I was like “no… no… just tried.” or something lame. He laughed at me and continued the conversation. Pretty sure he was on to me but he never made a big deal of it and I don’t know why. Maybe he figured experimentation was a part of boyhood. The first time I ever drank, I was in boyscouts and there was a group of troublemakers I made friends with. We were called “explorers” and boy we explored lots of nature that wasn’t exactly in the guidebook. Ok. Just pot. I’m too scared to try anything else. but that didn’t stick. I never liked being high. I got hungry and tired and I’m good enough at that by myself. Seemed like a waste of money. One day we were flipping through the wallet of one of the “adult leaders” and he looked a lot like one of the kids that was drinking that homo milk and had a full beard at 15. So we borrowed his ID with his permission “just don’t get caught. I’ll tell them you stole it.” and went to the store and bought beer. We waited a few days for a night when the adults went out to dinner, and snuck out of our tents and got drunk. It took me 3 beers. Heavyweight Champion of the WORLDD!
They found out about it eventually and the punishment was banning us from a trip and we had to tell our parents ourselves. I walked in to the bedroom that night thinking I was going to get murdered. They didn’t really react. My dad just said “Well. Be careful. Alcohol is pretty dangerous.” and part of me lost all appeal of it. “They don’t care? That’s boring.” and I don’t think I did it again for a while. but then I started hanging out with people who did think it was cool. That led to some more trying things out. It just seemed like the thing everyone did when they talked to girls and girls got loose with it. I didn’t really know moderation at that point.
When I was 19 I had a few failed attempts at losing my virginity because of some drinky drinks. I went to the doctor and asked for Viagra. Quite embarrassing. Although it finally got the job done. Then I didn’t need it anymore. Everytime I’ve told that story to a comic they ask me why I don’t talk about it on stage. I don’t know how funny it is I guess. Recently I was with a girl, and my friend called me and I picked up the phone and said I was busy with a girl, and because my phone was broken and only worked on speaker phone, she got involved in the conversation. As I was hanging up he goes “Did you use your viagra?” I laughed and the girl laughed but she didn’t know the story. She probably thought he was just being goofy.
My relationship with my brother has gotten better as we all got comfortable with ourselves I think. Although most of my issues in life have been about fitting in. Always been a little odd I guess. Even in a family of odd people. Everyone in my family is wealthy from their own hard work and all I’ve got to show for my career is hot pockets for dinner on Christmas. My brother just made his first million dollars and he’s 2 years older than me. So I feel like I have 2 years to get a million otherwise my family is going to be disappointed in me. “I don’t know. I guess he didn’t get the millionaire gene.” Anyway – I know my dad is happy and proud. Every time he interviews a comic he can’t help but bring me up. It’s my mother I worry about sometimes. I remember this story about a year ago. My mom is giving me sort of the usual gentle push “you need to maybe find something part time and still do comedy at night!” Imagine that job interview? “Yes I’m available monday through like wednesday from 11 to 3. I’m out late telling jokes so I can’t wake up early and then I’ve gotta leave early to drive 4 hours to my show so 3pm would be good. Also I’m going to take 6 weeks off in January. So. If you could just hold my job while I pursue something I actually want to do, that’d be great!” Anyway. the next day I did a show at a winery and they paid me like a hundred bucks and gave me a free bottle of wine. I don’t drink wine. So I gave it to my mom. She was my biggest fan literally overnight. “You should set up more shows at winery’s. Do like a winery tour!” See, open on drunk mom, close on drunk mom. Just like journalism class taught me. 🙂
Now enjoy this great video on this topic by my good friend Adam Norwest:
If that hot pockets for christmas line gets a good enough laugh, I’m gonna make that my next cd title.