one man shows

i’m just a big wuss

(I added this first paragraph later): Can I just tell you how much I love guestbooks? I always sign them at museums and galleries, and I love the one I have on my site. Many people don’t send e-mail, and they prefer to leave their mark that way. I like that. I like knowing what people want to hear from me and what they felt about what I wrote. I love that people leave their URL’s and I can go and see what they do. I like my guestbook and it’s not a bad thing that I check it seventy times a day. So there.

I am sitting over a pile of bills that I have to get done today.

Of course, I’m busier than usual at work.

That’s how these things work, of course.

I have also made another important conclusion…

I’m allergic to work.

No really.

Not the act of working, mind you. But this place. This building, this office, this desk. I’ve been sneezing for two hours straight, and I was just fine this morning. As I was driving in my eyes started swelling and watering… and now I’m in full allergy mode. I’m in hell. I just keep sniffling and sneezing and my eyes hurt.

And I was fine until I left for work.

That’s proof enough for me.

I saw Mr. Show last night. My God, is there anything funnier on television right now? I love them so much. It was the episode last night with the band Titantica… if you haven’t seen it, I’d just ruin it for you. You must see it. I command you.

That’s the kind of comedy I wish my brain could just do. When I sit down to write a sketch often times I feel like everything I’ve written has been done before. Everything. Every word, every situation, there’s nothing new in my head.

Like, I was watching John Leguizamo’s Freak the other night and Eric said, “It makes you want to write a one man show.” And it does. It’s brilliant. And I think, “I write monologues and scenes all the time. Why don’t I do a one man show?” And then I think, “Besides, this journal is like a one-man show.” But then I think, “But it’s funny in the way that you read it, not the way you say it, I think. I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll suck.”

But if I do write a one woman show, this is the only thing that I have so far. Are you ready? Here we go.

“Women are bitches man. Bitches. I can say that because I’m one of them.
No, we call each other that all the time, it’s okay.”

What do you think? No one else thinks it’s funny either, it’s okay. I have friends with brilliant one-man shows and I just sit around on my hands and think, “Who would want to listen to me talk for 90 minutes? Who?”

And then I think, “When do I write a one man show? I’m sitting over a pile of bills and I can’t stop sneezing! Who’s going to direct my one man show? What will I talk about? I have no purpose. Do you think I could get away with just re-doing Dana Carvey’s ‘Chopping Broccoli?’ I have no world statement! I don’t want to be like everyone else and just talk about my dad.”

But then, I guess that’s what I do on this page, huh?

Sometimes I feel like I’m not funny anymore… like I ran out of funny. Right now is one of those times. That’s why I took a break from the group. Just clear my head for a couple of weeks and reorganize and not think about being funny or anything. I’m happy for this journal as a writing outlet and a way to keep my thoughts and etc… and I can have an audience that responds and everything that I like about performing, but I do it at work. how cool is that?

So this hair is getting redder on my head. I’m not too happy about that. Have I mentioned that I am the only one who doesn’t like it? Well, my parents hate it, but that goes without saying. They hated it exactly as I thought they would hate it… word for word, action for action:

MOM: I didn’t give birth to a red-head. That shit in your hair better not be permanent.

DAD: Did you color your hair? It looks horrible! What are you trying to be a Spice Girl?

Ah, the delicate art of parenting.

What is happening with The Mighty Kymm? Why haven’t I been able to read her page in five days? If someone knows something I don’t, please let me know. I’m in Kymm withdrawal. I want to hear about the cast party for her show. You know that’s a rockin’ cast party. Any show with gospel music and hymns has a drunken cast party. I want pictures with a lamp shade on her head.

Okay, my sneezing is interfering too much and it’s time for me to eat my lunch. Got to do those bills and all.

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