Captain Zap, doing stuff!

It’s a gloomy, yet surprisingly bright Wednesday. Our hero was just coming to his senses. Where was he, why did it smell like bologna throughout his room and why was there a hooker passed out on his bed? Hugging his trillion thread count quilt against her naked, and street hardened body. Before calling the cops on her he took all of the money out of her purse so no one could prove he paid for anything. Captain Zap had never been a fan of the condom and his wenis shone as bright as the sun that morning. He’d been burned, thank goodness for the super fast healing.

Something dropped…

Captain Zap was now dealing with the consequences of way too much drinking and annihilating too much from Chipotle’s. There would be no smiles, just pain. From a mile away you could hear the squeak of the struggle and the heel of his foot digging into the tile. Then, just like a slow kiss with a fat woman who just downed some Cheetos; it was over. Zap chose to stand for a while, because it hurt too much to sit. He said it felt like sitting on a bear’s teeth.

Our hero heads to work, on his way he intentionally avoids recognizing an old friend because he dislikes “the stop-and-chat.”

Was there enough time before work to stop and get a Croissanwich? Yes, even though he would be late, there had to be enough time. F**k it, make it two!

He had to call his bank to check his account balance. “Please press one to continue your phone call in English…” He hung up the phone.

He complimented an ugly woman, it was his “good thing” for the day. She soaked right through her valour pants and an old woman slipped and fell. Bless you Captain Zap.

Senator Ted Kennedy’s death troubled Captain Zap, “Why the hell is this all over the media? Who are you?!”

As my own hunger grows I have to cut this story short… I promise it’s going somewhere… to be updated later (just proving I’m still alive)

Private confessions made public

Private Confessions …

“So, I was at the zoo with my family and we were watching the gorillas play. My son made said “look at Daddy’s face!” because I was staring with amazement. My daughter was the one who pointed out that I had an erection. Truth be told, it wasn’t the gorillas that gave me wood; I was looking past them toward the Panda area.” Donald ______

“I pick my nose and eat what I find more than I can count.” Wayland Smithers

“… yeah, but who hasn’t look at a really young kid inappropriately? (not me) Oh… well, never mind.” Jack ________

“Your face looks like someone hit you with a truck. Unfortunately, you lived and had to crawl through the desert on your face and chest. I imagine that when you reached the hospital you told the doctor’s to fix you up. But then you told them to leave your face the way it was because you wanted to remember what they did to you.” Mike Hernandez 01’

“Yeah, I jerk it at work sometimes.” ______ _______

“If I were gay…” ________ ________ (doesn’t really matter what is said next, you’ve made quite an accepting statement already)

“But who hasn’t laughed at Carlos Mencia at least once? (I haven’t) Oh.” Nathaniel _______

It’s been a little while and I’ve been surprisingly busy with life lately. Let me promote (puts on promoting gloves) before we get ahead of ourselves:

Baltimore Comedy Factory! Louis Ramey! Big Ben Kennedy! Tyler Richardson on the drums! It’s gonna be better than a high five! More like TWO HIGH FIVES!! This weekend.

It’s impossible for me to listen to Luther Vandross’ music without seeing him lip locking a man. It really makes Dance with my Father hard to swallow, but damn the piano is banging in the background.

I didn’t actually think that men needed to txt every woman that they’ve slept with and tell them when they’ve found someone special. What happens if you don’t? You start getting texts and calls from all of them because women can sense love and their first instinct is to call. If I were on Facebook this wouldn’t happen. But I’m not, and I’m lazy, so there.

Atif actually told me one of my jokes was dirty. That’s like having a rapist tell you that you need to calm down because you’re being too aggressive.

I’m gonna get some good pics of Baltimore this weekend, “or die tryin’.”

My grandmother is in Alaska at this very moment. I pray that no hunter mistakes her for a Sasquatch; being that they can’t see too many black people around those parts.

New favorite act in DC: Jack of all trades, I just like seeing him happy. He’s happy when he’s telling jokes.

And with that, we move onto the weekend.

Peaces

Wait... this isn't where I parked my car.

Friday I did a show at Fat Tuesday’s in Fairfax. My friend Nate has a band (whose name I’m omitting in case he decides to Google it) and I was more than happy to come and host their gig with a couple of other bands. Fat Tuesday’s is a bar that is supposed to capture the feel of New Orleans (they took the name from a popular place in New Orleans) and since it’s right next to GMU college kids should be there. Well, there were some college students sprinkled in the mix but mostly older people just anxious to get their wife or girlfriend on the side drunk and horny. Music can be a good environment for whispering subtle things like “I couldn’t help but hear the chair squish, another strong island iced tea honey?” My comedy was f*cking that up… eventually. I say that because the first time I took the stage I managed to get about 80% of this large bar’s attention by yelling and not giving a f*ck that there was conversation going on. I was yelling so loud that my voice kept going out on me, I’m very soft spoken by nature. But as I said, the first 15 minutes went well. Normally, when comics host they aren’t expected to perform in between the following acts. My friend Nate requested that I do that, so I obliged. That was a mistake. The second time the conversation was louder because they’d just been rocking to Sex and Missiles (name dropper) and then here I come again. I find bombing hilarious, probably because awkward situations make me laugh, and had a ball. A woman who had earlier told me it was her 40th birthday to get applause was now using it against me. “Hey, HEY! (Yes Ma’am) You’re terrible. It’s my 40th birthday and you are terrible, I don’t want to hear you anymore. (The band isn’t ready ma’am) I don’t care, it’s my birthday!” I couldn’t stop laughing, which is probably not the best way to handle not doing well. Her drunk friend standing directly in front of me was also 40. Why mention her? Because the entire second go round she was demanding the microphone from me. Before the stink of my comedy had truly set in, I let her announce that it was her friend’s birthday. Now I had appointed her the ambassador of the crowd. No matter how many times I said no, getting more pissed that she kept holding her hand out like a child and saying “Excuse me, let me just say something” she didn’t let up. I’m not lying when I say that this woman, slightly younger than my mother began grabbing and massaging her boobs to get me to hand her the mic. She must have been some type of fine back in her time but sadly that trick wasn’t working on me. In the end, some people went out of their way to let me know that all of the younger people (in the back of the packed bar) thought I was funny but there were a lot of older people that didn’t want to listen. An audience is an audience though, whether they were Martians, pirates or a bar full of other comedians. Everyone is capable of laughing if something is funny. So, I’ll take away the ever so hilarious memory of bombing and doing alright in the same night and try to improve upon whatever made the second so bad… perhaps stage presence has something to do with it. I’m not wearing tight enough jeans, I need to silence people with the outline of my “Henry” (I’m going to have to run that little nickname for my penis past the girlfriend, I hope she okays it because that is hilarious to me). On to other things, I just wanted to share.

G.I. Joe was good, not a 10 but damned if I didn’t get all the action you could pack into a pair of Ugg boots. By the way, Ugg boots are the ugliest footwear in existence. Second place: Crocs and rounding out Third Place: Flip Flips on a man

Since putting all of my old Adam Sandler CD’s on my phone I keep reminiscing about when his CD releases were a big deal. I almost wish he’d release another one because his last was still hilarious and I need new ways to pass the time at work. No one blogs anymore…

Next week, Baltimore… break dancing. And comedy, but mostly break dancing.

If you have the opportunity to watch the HBO documentary The Nine Lives of Marion Barry, do so. That’s pretty funny stuff. “Mr. Barry, would you agree to take a series of long term drug tests to prove you’re clean of drugs?” His response: “I don’t think that would help anything.”

Am I the only person that looks at Eli’s head shot and wants to pet his head? He’s adorable, no homo.

The more they postpone the cause of MJ’s death, the more I think he’s not dead. What they found was his outer shell and somewhere a gigantic butterfly is moon walking into a gigantic spider’s web. Ah, to dream…

When exactly did people decide it was gay to skip? I was teasing this little kid that I saw skipping with his sister last week and he felt no shame about his skipping. Good for him, I guess. When people start hurling some seriously hurtful gay rederick once he’s grown, I hope he still has that shield around his feelings. One more for the good guys.

I put every song that has Lil Wayne on a playlist last night. The playlist is 10 hours long and the majority of them are just him. My God…

Fact of the day: Mustard is not packaged by rummaging through the forest and bottling Sasquatch semen. It comes from a seed. You’re welcome.

My friend Jessica calls Nelson Jiggly Puff. That makes me laugh no matter how often I hear it.

Speaking of Nelson, this morning I was ironing and he walked past me to go to the bathroom. I was pretty tired since I’d just rolled out of bed my eyes weren’t open all the way. The only thing I thought I saw was Nelson getting ready to poop on a doggy pee pad. He didn’t, but that’s how I started my Tuesday. What about you?

Peaces

Iron Man 2 Comic Con footage... for now.

And Wednesday doesn't look so bad, I think she cut her hair

Well, where do I start? It’s been a wild week. I’ll save one story because I’m not sure if I get to dance on a table when it’s all said and done. I might just end up smashing my face against one if I f*cked it up.

I swear quite a bit. So does everyone that I hold dearest (friends, girlfriend, Grandma and at one point even mi madre) but on Friday night I was actually offended at how much a friend of mine let the expletives fly around toddlers and precious young minds. It was like being young and watching Martin Lawrence: YOUSOCRAZY all over again. Though he was a monster, he swore so beautifully it was majestic. I could see fluorescent lights bounce off his hair after every giggle that slipped when he’d just surprised himself with a new combination. Thank you Izzo, you gave me back a piece of my childhood.

Three cheers for Atif, he gets to host for Rob Cantrell. As a celebration he says that a video of him dancing in Humus will be on YouTube within the next week. Gross, but awesome. Boo Butta!

Yesterday I held going to the bathroom off and felt like I was setting an Olympic record. A few days ago I remember thinking to myself “Man it’s been forever since I was trapped in a car and unable to go…” Well you get what you wish for. That was my Tuesday afternoon.

When I picture Sean Paul Ellis, which I do from time to time, I wonder why he’s always a slave owner with “a lil’ Captain in him.” Strange…

I was talking to Jermaine (ahem, the Fowlest) last night and I think it would be really funny to start calling myself Jermaine Fowler II and see how long I can make a name for myself before we run into each other. Just like Kirk vs. Spock, it’s on!

Just got this text message twice, so I guess the first one was for me and the second was for the world (how can anyone argue with that logic?) “Just had a poo scare, Just barely made it to work.” Some people get thought of when a crisis goes down. Some people get thought of when you’ve just dropped an atomic bomb. Apparently I’m that second guy.

My only advice to “this person” was to “have a lolli.”

White Chocolate is the devil. With that said, I’m eating a Crunch White/Blanco bar right now. I hate myself.

The hardest thing about doing the right thing all the time is that everyone doing the wrong things keep showing you all the rewards. “So, no matter how much your friends brag, DON’T invest in Japanese auto makers. They need your money here in America too.”

*UPDATE* My story has a happy ending! I don’t want to put it all out there because no one would believe me anyway. But, if you ask me personally I will gladly talk your ear off with my 15 minute story.

Now I’m all gitty, but I have a phone call to make.

Peaces