Fuzzy Cordless Mics

I was awake before noon twice this week.
I had a comedy workshop. Whatever that is.
I was apprehensive about the whole thing, but when I showed up I saw there were pastries.
So, I was okay after that.
It was put off by a funny man I met named Al Rae.
In the pictures I could find he sort of looks like a magician's assistant.
He doesn't really look like that now.
He sort of looks like a computer technician.
He used to be in a duo called Al and George.
Now he's the head writer for this show.
Which I haven't watched. But will now.
I had to do a writing exercise that involved a newspaper and a woman with absolutely hideous, hideous feet.
Not everything about summer is sunshine, if you get me.
The culmination of this was an open mic that happened last night.
I wore my dad's suit.
I killed.
Mark Critch was there, and I was like, 'Hey Mark! You're awesome man, I think you're awesome!'
And he was like, 'Let's get a seat in the back.'
But he wasn't saying it to me. He was saying it to some person he was with.
I'm about to go get a recording from the CBC.
I have to sign a waver.
I'll try to muster the energy to get Peter Russell to help me upload it.
Upload it for me.
Whatever.

Alright. I don't feel into the blog yet.
I'm gonna bomb some crystal meth.
I'll be back.