Hold My Calls

I bet that the day you learn that you're allergic to shellfish is a memorable one.
Sort of like the day you learn that you can't drive while you're drunk.
At least, not very well.

I'm in a hotel...hovel.
There's a computer nook and I'm in the computer nook.
But the lighting makes me feel like I'm on a train car.
And the temperature is at the exact degree when you typically think to yourself:
"Maybe I should open a window."
So. Hovel.
But I have other things to talk about.

You'd better sit down!
I kissed a girl recently.
A concious one.
She has been mentioned in the blog as of late.
I accidently left my phone in her car.
Which is a fitting introduction, really.

The fancier the bus, the more likely you'll find carpet on its ceiling.
I still manage to spill stuff on it.

Do you know why you enjoy following the lives of celebrities?
It's because your own friends are boring.

Though I believed I was performing in Halifax last night, I did not.
Yet another scenario where the joke's on me.
Generally when the joke's on me, a swimming pool is involved somehow.
The Halifax club had their Just For Laughs showcase last night.
Which was a great oppurtunity for me to sit by myself.
And explain to my friends why they wouldn't be watching me perform.
On the bright side, I had an oppurtunity to make eyes at Scott Pickup's girlfriend.
I hadn't seen him in five years.
He has more veneers than he used to.

My Probable Fate

Two of my ex-girflriends have a birthday today.
Coincidence?
I think so.
But you never know.
Perhaps I'm meant to dissatisfy women born on this day.
So look out Molly Ringwald and Vanna White.
Now that would be a ménage à trois worth videotaping and leaking to the internet.

I had a chaperoned date last week.
Which was very lovely.
Shandera dropped me off at the locale.
And when he was ready to drive me home, he texted.
She's more well-read than me.
I enjoy that in a woman.
She also wears those glasses that I like.
And when she knows that tea costs the same, no matter the size, she gets the large.
So obviously she has a good head on her shoulders.
Which is where it's supposed to be.
So that's complimentary.

I had a marriage proposal all lined up for Turpin, you know.
It really is quite perfect.
So I'll likely save it for whichever ex-con I plan to marry.
My great fear is that they won't get it.
Even though Peter took a bullet for me, I have dreams sometimes.
That Turpin will steal me away.
To do her washing and listen to her drone on and on about cookware.

Speaking of overcrowded prisons.
What happened to public executions?
There wouldn't be nearly as much film piracy if we had a guillotine set up in front of the mall.
'Piracy' is too flattering a term for what they do, by the way.
Historically speaking, pirates are nearly as admirable a crime syndicate as the mob.
'At-home shoplifting'.
That's what film piracy should be called.
Let's put these wusses in their place.

Serving convicts should be required to read Robert Munsch books to one another.
Before lights out.
Each and every night.
No one is going to whittle their toothbrush into a shiv and then stab their roommate with it.
Not if that roommate just finished reading them Murmel Murmel Murmel.

The Last Supper (for a little while)

If we didn't have the colours pink and blue...
We wouldn't know who owned what toothbrush.

I wish all women were psychiatrists.
You can be honest with your psychiatrist.
I could easily say, "I find you very attractive" to a psychiatrist.
Then she could frankly explain how I'm not her type.

So, it's pancake day.
For those of you who are satanists or Mormons, it's a Christian thing.
You see, Jesus went into the dessert for 40 days and 40 nights.
And on the eve of his departure he realized he still had a box of Bisquick in the cupboard
(the cupboards, of course, he made himself).
Before he served the stacks to his disciples, Jesus filled them with nails and bits of yarn.
Because Jesus loved a practical joke.
Especially those that involved spoiling food.
He could always whip up more.
That's why he and his buddies were always chilling at the beach with baskets of fish.

Sing for your Supper

The finals are finished.
I didn't win them.
I didn't conquer.
I blame the Vatican.
And all of their head games.
Matthew Esteves won.
Which I guess is nice enough.
It's neat for him to have something.
It can't be easy with a forehead like that.
Competing takes all of the fun out of it.
Especially when you lose.
It's a presence of tension that just sours the milk a bit.
Queers up the feta.

Myself and some of the other comics are saving Haiti on Friday.
With our comedy.
I think that'll be more enjoyable.
Which suggests I might be a better humanitarian than I am a comic.
Which wouldn't bother me.
So long as I was better than Esteves at it.

Men Are From One Planet, Women Are From the Same Planet

We'd all be enjoying this Sunday far more if we were drinking schnapps.
That's why schnapps was invented:
Sundays.
And for removing panties, supposedly.

I know that comics do a lot of comedy that contrasts men and women.
Sure it's cliched, but there's so much to draw from.
For example, women have breasts and vaginas.
Men have communication issues.

I mailed a piece of paper to a woman this week.
It said the following:

Hi. Err...hello.
Ahem.
Do you like me?
Please circle one:

YES NO
AS A FRIEND

I'm an idiot.
But I'm adorable.
Anyway, that's all I've got.
I feel as though I'm writing from Siberia today.
It might be the beers I had last night.
It might be the pre-Super Bowl jitters.
You know how I get those.
It might be due to how long it has been since I've been in a hottub.
Either way.
I'm gonna stare at the sun.
'Til it goes down.

Doctor/Patient Privilege

If I was doing comedy professionally I'd hire a therapist.
And I'd make them watch my act.

Your Special Day

My hair looks ridiculous right now.
I just woke up from my annual birthday nap.
I only sleep one day a year.
The day's been great so far.
The piniata took some wallops, but it gave when Sidney Crosby hit it.
Carrottop sucked some helium from one of the balloons and did his act.
Nobody got it.
The fireworks startled me, though.
Generous as the Harbour Breton principals are, my substitute drought was...watered today.
I made the purposeful mistake of letting the grade fours know it was my birthday.
They said they could keep a secret.
Good thing I didn't tell them I have a crush on the custodian.
They got together and wished me a happy birthday over the PA.
Which would've been adorable.
But my absentee teacher forgot to leave a lesson for my third class.
Which I was moments from having to teach at the time.
It was still adorable, actually.
It should be everyone's birthday every day.
So if you feel like staying home during the bull run, everyone will say:
"Ah, that's okay. It's your birthday."
Every meal you have at supper time would be your favourite.
Sort of like being on death row indefinitly.

Will Work For Food

Ever hear the microwave tell you your popcorn was done
Only to realize that you don't want to go through the effort of eating it?
No?
That's just me?

My Three Sons

Of all of the things that my mother has done for me, birthing me is by far her most resounding accomplishment.
I must not have been easy to have around.
Crying all of the time.
Not that that was my fault.
Writing 'hookers' on all of her grocery lists.
And, apparently, once when I was two I got into her cupboards and spilled eggs and oatmeal and stuff all over myself.
Between people dying and people being assured they'll die sooner rather than later, Mom had a rough Christmas.
And I had no money.
This was her gift.
I have wrestled with the idea of posting it.
It has been a constant struggle between my not wanting to type it all out.
And my desire to seem sweet.
And since I don't have a girlfriend right now...enjoy!


Through Jiggs and Reels

The crest of an evening, a building clad brick
Tears of elation, both tired and thick
Fell from my mother, below her strewn hair
She's just birthed my brother (though I wasn't there)

Decades have passed and we've all grown new lines
But you can't help but smile, cause we had some times
Imagine my parents had abstained from the rearing
And chosen a companion far more endearing

A pet with thick fur, or fresh molted feathers
Some sort of parrot-I hear they're quite clever
Instead they chose us, for better or worse
And today mom gets some credit, long since deserved

They left then for home, amid Autumn's sighs
To start their new family and form some new ties
The first, he was weened on teet and baloney
But the house was too big; soon he was lonely

And then there were two, as the ol' saying goes
Knocking things over and shitting their clothes
Crying and fighting and getting the croop
Rashes and flues (did I mention the poop?)

Yup, things sure were great in the new Warford hut
'Cept everyone would leave the toilet seat up
"A girl's what I need!" Linda exclaimed
"Someone to help me to cope with these pains!"

She soon glowed anew with a baby soft growing
"Third time's a charm," said Linda, now showing
"She's gotta show this time, before it's too late
Tea parties and Barbies, this'll be great!"

The skies parted open and the birds chirped with mirth
The deers hugged the hunters at this glorious birth
The stock market paused and wars went on hold
Because when God made this one, He shook up the mold.

But sadly her body once more had been duped
Xs and Ys were mixed up in the soup
"A boy!? Are you sure?! Did you check it enough?"
"Ma'am, I'm a doctor. He'll pee standing up."

"Well we can't leave him here. He has to be mine
The nurses won't take him-they didn't last time."
So home we all went to begin our new end
The third time had missed and halted the trend.

Soon we would speak, and mom would be tested
"Mudder's" a name she never requested
Yet she heard it enough when we wanted supper
When we lost our new cap, or told on each other.

When the phone was for her (if they bothered to answer)
When they were out of cash, or they were stranded and plastered
When they burned all the gas, and could they get more?
When they broke souvenirs or put holes in the doors.

But she never heard "Thanks" for the money or meals
The lunches she packed or the carrots she peeled
The bikes she bought for our riding sessions
The books that she read or piano lessons.

For floors swept and mopped after meals never burnt
We'd just grab some cookies and walk through the dirt
You kept this house in pristine repair
For sons who never even bothered to care.

How did she do it? No one knows how
And it's not like she's stopped; the turkey's on now!
These were her three brothers instead of three sisters
Who never could value a family picture.

Why was such effort just met with complaining?
And how can passed gas be so entertaining?
So today is your day, and you'll be praised thus
When we weren't looking you managed to raise us.

And of course we appreciated the calm and commotion
But we were boys become men; we don't show emotion
You know we have loved you and all that you've done
It frazzled your patience, but come on, it was fun.

Like the time Colin helped Brian crawl up the stairs
The Wholesale "De-Pot,"* and all of the fairs
The Cub car rallies and the dimly-lit plays
BBQs and red cheeks on long summer days.

The time I threw up in my swimming bag
Turning our Vaurnet shirts into rags
Carving out pumpkins and getting detention
And occaisonally sitting on Claude's lap at Ascension**

Swimming and fighting in Antigonish
Leaving with dad to come back with fish
Motorhome on the highway, the Venetian blinds sighing
With Colin asleep and me up and crying

We'd make such a racket, we should've been beat
But we'd get quiet fast if you rose from your seat
It involved give and take, with little to spare
But you braved all the storms and that shows you cared

"Why can't you wear proper boots on your feet?!"
"Why can't I wear my cap while I eat?"
"Pause your game now before supper is cold!"
But we'd keep on playing; we'd let it grow mould
"You're not going to McDonald's in all of this snow!"
"But they're out in the car and they're waiting to go!
If it turns out it's slippery then I will go slower
Oh, I guess I'll need money, and can Bussey sleep over?"

You weathered all this with no sign of surrender
And that's just the stuff that I can remember.
So thank you for helping us survive in this game
I'm sure these two others were thinking the same

When our chips were down you held us aloft
Tough when required, but otherwise soft
The lynch pin who held this whole family together
And look at us now, we're all for the better

I guess we all thought we shouldn't distract you
To acknowledge the backbone might weaken the glue
You were the Jenga piece holding things up
And it might all tip over if looked on too much.

But now we are here to realize your feat
A mom and her ducklings crossing the street
You kept your head up and now we've all made it
And it'll always be something appreciated
Through everything right and everything wrong
We're all here now, and we love you Mom.


Alright alright.
A little mushy at the end. I guess that was the point.

* The Wholesale Depot was a Price Club before Price Club existed.
Located in Bangor, Maine. We always intentionally mispronounced 'depot'.

**Claude Taylor often acted as Santa at the Ascension Collegiate Christmas parties.
Because he was so jolly.

They Grow Up So Fast, OR "I'm so hungry, I could eat a _______"

Is it Groundhog Day yet?
Do we have to have this every year?
Who needs a holiday-federal holiday-to celebrate a shitty climate?
Aren't there traps we can get for these?
No rodent deserves its own day.
Well, I know we have the rabbit for Easter.
But that's different.
They're so adorable you forget that they're rodents.

If Kraft Foods and General Mills were involved in some sort of murder-suicide.
And we had to suddenly cook domestic pets in order to survive.
I believe that cats would be the best way to go.
Because they reproduce so rapidly.
Bob Barker tried to stop them for fifty years or so.
And sure, it was a great sendoff line, but really he got nowhere with his cause.
They mature rapidly as well.
So they'd get meatier quicker.
Isn't it funny that we feed horse parts to our pets?
I wonder what the food chain has to say about that.

edit: I didn't realize that today is in fact Groundhog Day.
Because my computer told me it was the 30th of January.
It's mishaps like these that cause certain loafers to miss their own birthdays.

Careful What You Wish For

The crows that huddle around my garbage box are like the kids I teach.
They're amused when they get me all worked up.

I miss the little tykes, though.
Whatever their names are.
I am experiencing a relatively significant substitute drought.
Like anyone too lazy to actively look for work, I blame the recession.
In fact, I blame midterms.
Of course, I enjoy days off.
But when it gets to be a whole bunch of days off...
I start to feel bad that I'm still enjoying them so much.

I'm thinking of asking a woman out through telegram.
Yes, they still exist.
I was surprised, too.
I'm a little wary, though.
Asking out a woman whom you barely know using a method that involves her address.
Even I have limits.
Well, when it comes to making myself vulnerable to women, I suppose I don't have limits.
But if I did, perhaps this would be it.
Besides, I don't know how interessted I am, necessarily.
Apart from the fact that she has plastic-rimmed glasses.
And lovely teeth.
I'm unsure of her qualities (or lack of them).
What's worse is that she already knows everything that I have to offer.
She's seen my act.

Oh!
Speaking of embarassing myself on and off the stage.
I have another gig in Halifax.
Late February.
And I'm not relinquishing my toothpaste this time.