Casting A Spell

I'd love to tell you about all of the shmoozing I have been doing, and how shitty I am at it.
But I no longer feel as though I need to speak to you.
Seriously, though.
I'm in a 'business center' that isn't air conditioned, and I'm miserable because of it.
Soon enough I'll go back to being a gangly person without a day job.
I'll have plenty of time on my hands to yammer at you then.
While we wait for that, please check out my podcast on the Todd Van Allen, or TVA show.
This happened last Thursday, I think.
It was on the second floor of a building.
I'm certain of that much.
You can find the podcast (his 200th!) here.

"How Much Time Am I Doing?"

How's it going?
It's great to be here!
I just flew in last night
All the snacks cost too much
Wrote jokes about the flight

My room's AC was on the fritz
My eggs fried on their own
They 'fixed it'--now it won't shut off
I haven't thought of home

I go out to help get warm
Come in to help cool down
I've paced the lobby twenty times
There's no one else around

I wake late morning, nap at four
Dinner's at one a.m.
The other comics have bigger rooms
At least I'm making friends

Did a podcast, played some rooms
Put beer on someone's tab
Flew out twice at the cock's crow
Paid too much for a cab

My iPod is my new best friend
My TV's my new dad
Super Sexe has my new gals
Perhaps I'll do their ads.

I don't know what I'm doing here
Or how I got this pass
All the others know so much
They must think I'm an ass

I just spit it when I'm on the mic
And pray there's some applause
Hope the dudes will clap their hands
As girlfriends throw their bras

All the pros are so damned smooth
Seven hundred's no big deal
Maybe one day I'll be them
How fucked would that feel?

I'll try to shmooze with Jimmy Carr
The boys from SNL
If I don't throw up in their drink
I'll say that 'it went well'

The scariest are 'the industry'
Who know the whys and whos
Make me the next gillionaire
In 'The Hangover 2'

I try to take it all in stride
And wear my stupid shirts
If they happen to not dig my ways
They'll get their just desserts

Go over new lines. Eat something light
Then get in the shower
I have another show to do
My car comes in an hour

It's All Over but the Riots

The World Cup is over.

I know.

I watched the whole thing bleed out and die personally.

In a restaurant in Montreal.

I watched the entire match with other comics who didn't have the sense to not watch it.

115 hours of tepid action, punctuated with one goal.

It was fabulously adequate.

Now there are people honking car horns and brandishing flags without the usual nationalistic caution.

It's sickening.

I wouldn't find the display so aggravating if it wasn't for the motorcade of units behind the whole thing.

Banging on their car doors.

Shouting things with their shirts off.

What a crock of shit.
You don't need a soccer game to take pride in your country and get piss-wasted hammered.

That's what the olympics are for.

A Wing and a Scare

Written on Westjet flight 400-and-something
July 7; 7:05 a.m..

I'm in a plane right now.
It's flying without my help.
It's hard to concentrate because I'm on the wing.
I'm always on the wing.
This gives me something to whine about because:
A) it's the loudest seat to sit in.
B) if the engine suddenly falls off, it's my responsibility to stand up and yell:
"The engine just fell off of the plane!"
Which makes me look like the bad guy.
I watched Toy Story 3. It was good.
But it was in 3D, so when it was over I had to go back to perceiving things the way I usually perceive them.
Bland.
I hate the guy sitting next to me.
And he didn't even do anything.
Except sit next to me.
I guess that's enough.
Sitting on a plane is like sitting on other vessels; you desperately don't want anyone sitting next to you.
Unless it's one of those Hawaiian Tropic girls.
Babes.
They prefer to be called babes.
There are so many people sleeping right now.
I should do my "the engine just fell off the plane!" line now.
For practice.

Two for the Show

I'm in Toronto.
But with the Humidex I'm in Toronto and contrary.
It's still early in the morning here.
But not as early as it was when Avril and I first got up to go to the airport.
She sang Leaving on a Jet Plane while I went through security.
I was mortified.
Anyway, I'm at Brian's and I want to nap.
So why am I even talking to you, really?

I do and will have more to tell you, though.
I wrote you all a post while I was on the plane.
Shorthand!
I performed shorthand for you vultures!
But I'll transcribe that later.

Oh!
There was a Just For Laughs guy at the airport waiting for me.
With a sign.
He introduced himself and then said, "Do you have your luggage?"
I responded, "No. Should I?"
He pointed behind me and said, "Should be through there."
The door I'd just walked through had red stickers all over it.
Telling us not to go in there.
"Are we going to be able to get in there?" This is me again.
"Oh yeah, that's fine."
Then he pried the door apart with his hands.
A Yuk Yuk's guy would've told me that I'd have to buy all new luggage.
Anyway, I had to tell him that I didn't know he'd be there.
And that I didn't need a ride.
He had to call Wayne and tell Wayne.
I believe he woke Wayne in the process.
So I'm already making friends.
Alright. That's it.
What do you want me to bring you back?
Little CN Towers?
A flesh wound?