Sunday, June 18, 2017

PEOPLE NEED TO DIE.

Lately I want to quit standup almost every day.  It’s not performing itself that is driving me crazy.  I think it’s New York.  I have a lot of (don’t say irons in the fire!!!) things going on.  Maybe my problems have two prongs like a kangaroo (look it up).  Prong 1: I seem to get overwhelmed with unstructured time.  Prong 2:  people are generally awful.

There are so many things that suck about New York that I won’t even mention the constant smell of urine and halal.  I moved here going on four years ago.  My first set of roommates were great. One was an editor and the other made puppets.<---- sure they drank beer and whatever but they were nice guys.  My second apartment, broads, or as I like to call them - reptilian apartment dwelling sluts.  Actually the first set were heavenly.  Maybe that's what delineates everything else as so abhorrent.  The two girls that I met when I looked at the apartment, I clicked with.  I moved in and we all got along beautifully.  There were no petty quibbles or trivial objections about towels or shelf space.  I like to think that I am pretty easy going.  I never would comment about other people’s furniture particularly after having moved in last.  I would never break balls about an antique or a table.  You know who does that?  Bitches with no furniture. <----- I wrote about this particular topic having coined a new pseudonym for this specific roommate of “pterodactyl.”  The two girls that I got along with eventually left.  One went to Houston to get married and the other moved in with her Bulgarian boyfriend in a different part of Astoria.  Sadly, they were replaced by juvenile water dragons with perpetual PMS.

The Eastern European wears skin tight jeans with whore boots.  There must be a rodeo in town (I don’t believe Queens, New York hosts such types of activities but I suppose one never knows).  The other one is a textbook narcissist with an enormous rear end.  I must have been like a serial killer in a past life to have been given such a treacherous plight.    

Staying on the death/I want to quit theme, I did a show for a theatre in Massachusetts.  I don’t want to name names but I’ll say it something Center for the Arts.  It was in Natick.  After the show, the headliner and I were standing at the doorway greeting the audience as they were slowly filing out.  People commented how much they liked the show.  A friend of the headliner came over.  They greeted each other with a hug and then the friend proclaimed, “I was waiting for you to do that bit about the underwear.”  The portly female comedian replied “well there was enough filth that went on before me that I left it out,” implying that the other comedians, which - I was the only one standing there at the time, did too much dirty material for her to then follow with some stupid bit about underwear.  (insert gunshot noises grenades, rocket launchers & flame throwers) 

MORE LATER.  SIGNING OUT. 
-the Albanian Detractor

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