Wednesday, June 22, 2011

It's pronounced Nor-fork

LAX isn’t so much a big airport as it is a collection of horrible small ones. Flying home after my Comedy.TV taping yesterday. It went well I guess. It was a paid audience, which means they were instructed to be way over the top enthusiastic about everything. Every comic entered and exited the stage with a standing ovation. They even went nuts for the setups “So my wife and I have 3 kids.” (Cue 20 seconds of uproarious applause.) They liked to clap more than they liked to laugh, which is a problem with TV audiences. It might sound like a good thing to have audience erupt into applause every time you say something funny, but it really messes up any timing. I tried to talk through the applause once, but I realized the audience couldn't hear what I was saying, so I ended up not doing the full version of some of my jokes. That being said, I think it will turn out fine. I used to think I would never have a TV credit and now I have 2, so take that shitty self esteem 2009.
Last week I did the Great American Comedy Festival. First let me say it was honor just to be invited. That’s what everyone who didn’t make the finals is trying to tell ourselves anyway. I had a good set, not a great one. 4 out of the 10 people who performed at my show got to go on to the finals, and I thought I might have a shot to sneak in, but it didn’t happen. Congrats to the incredibly talented and incredibly nice guy Ryan Hamilton, who ended up winning the whole thing. Of course my show was on Thursday, which meant I got to spend 2 days in Norfolk Nebraska trying not to feel sorry for myself. Good thing they had town picnics, river floats, and trips to the Norfolk Museum to distract me from my failure and encourage my day drinking. The people of Norfolk where incredibly nice to us. It was sort of like having a comedy festival in that town in “Doc Hollywood.” I played basketball at the local high school, on Friday with a bunch of the comics, and judges. I’m still a little sore. Ryan hurt his knee while playing and that night I had a dream that he was injured so badly he couldn’t compete in the finals and so they were going to let the 5th place finisher in my round compete. And...it still wasn’t me. Really? What kind of shitty dream is that subconscious me? Why not win the whole contest while getting blown by a mute girl with three tits? Have some fun while we sleep. I don’t need dreams that get my hopes up only to disappoint me again, that’s what being awake is for.
I did have a great time and met a lot of cool people. When it was over it kind of felt like the end of summer camp. On Saturday we had a wrap party and all the comics and organizers where hanging out. Louie Anderson was there, Cloris Leachman too. Cloris, by the way, had earlier in the evening pulled her pants down and mooned a theater filled with 1000 people. I have to say for 83, the ass wasn’t bad. The tramp stamp surprised me a little. So I was hanging out at the party when Eddie Brill, the booker for Letterman, approached me and said. “Gabriel, I just wanted to say, you did a really nice job...playing basketball yesterday. That was a lot of fun.” Oh, hello shitty self esteem 2011, I was wondering when you would show up.

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