Ring In The New Year

In four days, it will be a brand new year. With that comes a clean new slate. Right? At least that's what we are all meant to believe. Now is about the time we start making those new year's resolutions. Resolutions to get slimmer, smarter, richer and laid more. Instead of making resolutions I think we need to gear up. Acknowledge the obstacles ahead of us and what needs to be accomplished in order to achieve a goal. The hard thing for me this coming year is that it's going to be my first year out of school. Going into every new year, the only thing I had to tell myself was to get all A's. You can't do better than all A's. But here I am on the cusp of 2011 with good grades no longer a priority. What's there to accomplish? I guess I can think of a few things.

I've got to work on making more money and saving it. The free ride I've got going in Gainesville can only last so long. I'll have to start paying rent soon and I can't do that only working my one job at the moment. Especially considering that I've received two bounced paychecks from my company since I started in September. I'll have to look for a second job in order to really start taking care of myself. I'm not doing that working 20 hours a week and making $8 an hour.
With two jobs, I'll have to be stricter on how I spend my time. That means no more laying to waste in front of the television. I need to be either making a paycheck or working on my writing. My leisure time will be reserved for pro wrestling and baseball once that's back in season. This is growing up.

I'll have to find new ways to comfort myself. My girlfriend of two years is moving back in with her parents and that means having to do a long distance relationship. That blows. I've done LDR before and it all couldn't have ended any worse than it did. All my friends who ever did LDR didn't make it out except one and she broke up with her boyfriend two or three times over that stretch. It's hard to remain optimistic when your experience is marred by unpleasant memories.
I'll miss her very much and I'll just have to lean on my friends more to keep from going crazy. This means being the third wheel for many of my friends who are couples. If you're reading this Sandra and Brian, get use to saying, "table for three," when you go to T.G.I. Friday's.

I've got to find more to do comedy wise. I've been doing stand up for a full year now and I feel myself getting stronger. Makes me want to go out of town and do open mics, just to see if I can connect with crowds who I know haven't seen my shit before. I think it will only help build up my confidence.

I've got to go back to school. Yeah, I said this is going to be a year where grades won't be a priority but I already miss being a college student. Also, you can't make any real money with a bachelor's degree anymore so I've got to get my Master's. I'm going to apply for grad school at Cal State. I have a great friend who lives out there. Plus, it's ripe for me to continue my stand up and other creative ventures. This may also be a product of me being sick of my old space. I could use a change of scenery. I love you, Florida but I'm afraid I'm starting to outgrow you. Sooner or later I've got to move on.

I want 2011 to be my year. A year in which I not only experience change, but also growth. I wish the same for all of you.

"You got two jobs; kiss good, and make sure my hair don't get wet."

A Decent Year

Hey everybody. I've been slacking in the blog entries as of late because there was a bunch I needed to get sorted out in my head and I didn't know how to articulate it in writing. I'm currently back home for the holidays as I'm sure a lot of you are. The vacation is sure to do me some good. 10 days where I don't have to worry about the present. This is me taking a 10 day break from the town that has become my world. The town of Gainesville. Gainesville has became the nucleus to my way of life. The chance to get away from it is a chance to put my mind on auto pilot. Yet, I continue to plot because a new year dawns upon us. Before I lay out my new year's resolutions I need to take a look back at everything I've accomplished in 2010.

First and foremost, I graduated from college. That's what sparked this blog. What with me and the post-grad blues. Graduating college is a four and for some a five year effort. This alone makes 2010 a year to remember. I only wish I had graduated with a degree in something other than English. Looking back, I should've done Telecommunications. I was already akin to the workings of a television studio and there are a few courses that allowed to do video projects. My friend Tim is a Telecom major and he made a buddy cop film as his final project. How I envy him. I only took one film production course and it was only experimental. We weren't allowed to make narrative films. I did some good work in that class but nothing like I really wanted to do. But going back to my original point; woo college.

I made some strides in my stand up performance. I feel a make for a great MC now. I also got to headline for my first time. I also got to do a ton of other things outside of stand up. I got to write and host my own talk show entitled People We Know with Wiley Albatross. I played a mild mannered television show host who through each interview process, finds out his guests are complete lunatics. It went over exactly how I had planned it.

I honestly feel I am a strong writer. Getting to do a project like that only boasts my confidence and makes me believe I'm destined for greater things. 2011 may just be the time for me to really break out.

2010 also gave me a slew of work experience. Between working the bakery at a Dunkin Donuts and being an office lackey, I did some things I never did before. The Dunkin Donuts gig will never go down on my resume though. Not with the way I unabashedly walked out of there. But the experience of working in an office is definitely helpful. Even if that office is probably a drug front. The explanation of that is worth an entirely new blog entry if not a brand new 15 minute routine. Work experience and education are the key to a successful foundation.

That's 2010 in a nut shell. I've got big plans for 2011. Especially because 2011 will come with even more bills to pay. Right now I'm waiting for that moment where I feel like I've got life by the balls.

"That's the answer to the riddle. Because that's what an 8000 pound mako thinks about. About freedom. About the deep blue sea."

Slumps

Oh no. Oh geez. Oh gosh. Why? Why? Why? It's been happening. I am being plagued be the one thing a man in my position can't stand. The thing anyone who looks to pursue a career in comedy or writing for a living can't bear with. I'm talking about a creative slump. I'm so well into this slump that I've lost track of the days. I've barely written a thing. A few jokes here and there but outside of that I've had the creative output of an orange peel.

I'm even struggling to write this blog. My brain is just moving in slow motion all the team. A few weeks ago I was doing it all. I was machine gunning stand up performances and cranking out sketch videos. Sadly, I got exhausted by it fairly quick. I start to get depressed and loathe myself when I don't feel like I'm creating but it's not like I can force my creative spark either. When I do that, I begin to produce such useless drivel. It's like I heard in a song once. "It is better to destroy than to create what is meaningless."

So what do I do, reader? Should I get a CAT scan? How about I start writing with my left foot? That worked pretty well for Christie Brown. Perhaps I'll try a new creative outlet. Something like those Jackass guys do. Let's google search the highest point in Gainesville, then I'll dance on top it wearing an Avatar costume while eating a pickle. I hate pickles so this will cause we to start vomiting. Also, vomit makes me vomit so I would just keep vomiting until it is only dry heaves.

Or maybe...just maybe. This shall pass. Is that optimism I'm detecting? Yes! It is! That's what I need right now. Optimism. They only way to get through these slumps is to be confident in yourself. To know you've been on fire before and it will come again. It's just like an olympic athlete training to beat his own time. I can only vow to better than I am a year from now. Looking back to where I was last year, mission accomplished.

"Check yourself before you wreck yourself."

A Year Ago

Today I'm celebrating in my mind. I'm celebrating because one year ago today, marked my first time performing stand up comedy on stage. That's still a vivid memory. Like it was just yesterday. I remember that and everything leading up to it.

I always had an interest in pursuing stand up comedy. I thought I was funny enough but never knew how to get started. Also, I was frightened by the whole idea of being on stage in front of people and having them determine my comedic prowess. Luckily, I wasn't alone in my pursuit. My good friend, Jacob, also had the desire to try out stand up comedy. He convinced me to go see a student run comedy show on campus one night because this guy we knew from class, Calvin, was in it. We had a good time. We spoke to Calvin and we pitched him an idea we had for a comic. I came up with this concept of an ant and a butterfly solving sex based crimes in a small village in Luxembourg. Jacob drew up some illustrations. Now after talking about it, we really need to get that comic back on track. Calvin let us know about the meetings they had for perspective comics. Meetings where everyone just told jokes and helped each other make them funnier. Jacob and I went to the very next meeting.

Even though it wasn't a show, I was still shy. I was afraid of everyone there not liking me and then me retroactively quitting. Jacob had the balls to go up in front of everyone and talk all kinds of nonsense. Then the spotlight was on me.

"Who is this new kid who thinks he is funny? What? He came to one of our shows and now he thinks he can do this? Let's watch him cry."

I told the two little jokes I had and the experience was painless. I got a few chuckles from the group and some good advice. I kept coming back every week with new jokes. Sometimes just stories. Calvin and Tim would listen to each of them and help make them into working jokes. I was cool with being a prodigy. A guy who might by stage worthy some day. But that came sooner than I thought. This bar in town, 1982, was having an open mic for stand up. Anybody telling jokes in Gainesville was going to be there and that included me.

That night I was nervous. I invited ten of my friends to come out to the show and they all made it. There was a fair amount of other people there as well. I guess as a survival instinct I started drinking. The comics went up one by one and the crowd reactions were a mixed bag. A few of them were awesome and the crowd was jovial. Then a few guys went up that absolutely stunk. Calvin pulled me aside and said, "That is exactly what you're not going to do." I started to panic. "OH GOD! I'm being held to standards. Everyone is going to be so disappointed." I drank more.

Jacob went up before me and did spectacular. This was both calming and rekindling my anxiety. Calming because it was Jacob's first time and perhaps I could do just as well. Rekindling because I felt Jacob had raised the bar. It was finally time for me to take my turn. As soon as I got my first laugh, it was smooth sailing. The jokes kept pouring out of me. I was only suppose to do 3 but I ended up doing 7 minutes. I felt so comfortable up there. Afterwards, I met my friend JC for the first time and he invited me to come do his Thursday show. I went to bed that night on a pillow of my pseudo celebrity status.

Since then I've been working at it. A year of discovering my voice, hating audiences, hating myself, getting discouraged, doing shows in other towns, meeting other comics and learning. This is a process that will keep repeating. It was a year ago today that I started to smooth out my identity. I started to feel more and more like I belonged the more I did my stage act. What I love most about it is how much there is left to conquer. These are the words I want on my tombstone, "I am me because no one else can." That sums up how secure I am with who I am and where I am.

"Some people act a role, others play a part!"

So Far Left, You're On The Right

At my office, I like most of our clients. They usually fall into one of two categories. The first one being cheery and easy to work with. The second one being virtually non-existant. Either way, they help make my five hours a day in the office a low stress environment. But two months in and I come across Larry Chandler. Yes, I am using his real name because fuck him. He told me he doesn't have a computer, anyway. Larry Chandler is a nut job. He considers himself extremely far left and a strict christian. Larry Chandler is a living container of oil and water. What did I do to get Larry Chandler into my life? All I did was answer the phone.

Larry Chandler called looking for help fixing his credit score like any other client of mine. In the span of a 30 minute conversion I learned lots about him. He is 60 years old and a veteran of the Vietnam War. He is distrustful of the government and refers to Bank of America as Bank Robbers of America. He has a disabled son who was struck in the head by a stray bullet. His son son is blind and deaf on one side of his head. His wife ruined his life and can currently be found hooking on Orange Blossom Trail. When locked into conversation, Larry Chandler has no problem quoting bible scripture to make a point. He also loves to smoke marijuana. Larry Chandler was striking me as a unique individual who I would enjoy having as a client. Then, he started to let the crazy out.

He asked me about the origin of my last name. When I said German he had a story for me about Hitler. "Hitler had the right idea at first. He was all about killing the homosexuals. Then, Stalin butted in and made it all about killing jews. He muddled the message Hitler was trying to send. Do you know what homosexuals do to each other? They perform oral sex on each other. That's plain disgusting." The endearing gentleman I thought I was in touch with had disappeared. I stayed silent for awhile then told him I had to go. I was reeling over that until he called me the next day.

This time Larry Chandler had a warning for me. A warning that if I didn't do what I said I would or tried to screw him in any way. He would ask for God to bring vengeance onto me and my company. I checked with my boss and that was a first for our company. She told me that if that happens again, I can tell him to keep his money. My boss is a sassy black lady. She also added, "Let me call him and ask him where God was when he was getting his ass in all this debt." I love Ms. Wright to death.

Larry Chandler is an example of why I'm proud of my generation. Sure, we play a lot of video games and have invented horrible things like twitter but we are a lot more tolerable of other lifestyles than other the older generations. Larry Chandler calls himself a straight shooter and he believes it makes him noble. I think it is more noble to let go of your prejudices so that we all may live in harmony. No one is going to get along with everyone but the work we put in to co-exist with each other is tremendous. Let's keep the Larry Chandlers in the past.

"Come on Harry, the maiden fair waits for her knight in shining corduroy."

NMB Yesterday

I have a joke about how I went to a predominantly black school and how I was always type casted in the school plays. There is some truth to that. I was never actually in a high school play but the theater teacher knew me because I did the morning announcements. She would offer me parts in the plays but only for characters that wouldn't make sense if they were black. Once she wanted me to play a slave master and another time she wanted me to be a nazi. I declined both roles because I was already busy with other extracurriculars. But I like to imagine the acting resume I could've built had I chosen that path.

A friend of mine heard about this story and a few others and enjoyed them. She said that my upbringing would be a good resource for my comedic musings. Strangely, I don't have much material in regards to be old neighborhood or the schools I went to. I've got a few jokes about my parents but not any about the town that raised me. I haven't been incorporating this facet of my identity into my stage persona. The reason I don't is because my experience was quite average to me. I went to a black school but adapted well into black culture. So I never felt awkward or out of place and therefore find nothing humorous about it.

Regardless though, it is an experience that is unique to me and therefore can make endearing to audiences. I remember running into a friend from high school a few months ago. He asked me if I was writing jokes about the old neighborhood, the boys from NMB (North Miami Beach, my hometown) and the mix tape I had produced with him. I was disappointed to say no. Now may be the time to tap into the environment I was born out of. So let's see what we can conjure up.

I went North Miami Beach Senior High School. There were plenty of other white kids than me there but they were all in the magnet program. (Editor's Note: There were plenty of black kids in the magnet program as well.) They had different teachers and even a whole other floor of the building compared to the rest of the student body. I was an oddity. I was the white kid not in the magnet program. This would confuse teachers. In fact, one year the school had placed me in one of the magnet math courses. I tried to explain to them that the course was too advanced for me but they didn't do anything about it until I started to fail it. They pulled me out and put me in a math class I could handle. They had to alter my schedule to make this work and ironically pulled me out of my African American studies class to make it work.

A lot of the kids I hung out with listened to rap. I didn't like it much at first. The only rap I listened to was when Weird Al parodied Gangster's Paradise. The constant exposure to rap led me to have an affection for it. I started to write my own raps about the dumb and stupid things you contemplate about when you're fifteen. I wrote a lot about break ups despite not having had a girlfriend yet. Soon, I began to understand the idea behind battle rapping and free styling. I wrote little punch line raps and even though I wasn't as good as other kids, I got a lot of respect for having the courage to do it. There was also a novelty to me being white that the kids took a shine too. Probably had to do with Eminem being immensely popular at the time.

I soon got together with my friend Mike and we recorded a mix tape together. We pirated beats and rapped over them. The sounds quality was less than glamorous considering the recording process. The process involved playing the beats over the computer speakers and recording them onto the computer's microphone with us rapping. My rap name was Killah Kracka and he was Mic Deizel. Together we called ourselves Cold Equations. I named us that. I read a short story in English that year with the same name and really liked it. We burned our recordings on to blank CD's and passed them around school. They got pretty popular. People could automatically tell I was white by my voice and my subject matter. On one track in particular I crooned out, "Stay out of my life." Something only emo white kids said so my racial identity was unmasked. Luckily, it didn't hurt our popularity.

That was fun but I think that's enough dabbling for now. Writing about it makes it so vivid all of a sudden. My high school days were very kind of me and have a whole lot to do with who I am now. Writing about them could be just what I need to be more relatable. Perhaps next time we'll go on another vacation in my memory.

"As a matter of fact dawg, here's a pencil, go home, write some shit, make it suspenseful; and don't come back 'til somethin' dope hits you. Fuck it, you can take the mic home wit' you."

Too Many Forks, Not Enough Knives

Whenever I think I'm settling into something comfy, a fork manages to jab into my life. I've been satisfied with my decision to remain in Gainesville. I finally got the camera. Now my friends and I are getting to work on sketches and hopefully a feature length film. Sometimes, though, you haven't a clue when or what kind of opportunity will land at your door step.

Next month is the Florida Marlins job fair. It is an opportunity to gain a paid internship with a baseball organization I grew up loving. They have positions in many fields but I'm most interested in a position in either broadcasting or baseball operations. Ever since high school I thought about how simple my life would be if I could get a job for a baseball organization. Baseball is one of the loves of my life and if I could pull a check by simply talking and being around baseball all day, that would be grand. I would be a fool not to jump on this opportunity. So why has it got me feeling so nervous?

I'm not nervous about trying to get an internship. I'm nervous about moving back home and leaving Gainesville behind. Like I said before, I just bought a camera and am working on a movie with my friends. If I got the internship, I would have to start in January. At the rate this movie is going, I'll have to pack up for Miami before we even finish shooting. If that happens I'll feel like I've really let my friends down. Plus, I'll feel like I'm bailing on why I wanted the camera in the first place. What if my internship makes me lose interest in film making and comedy all together? What if I end up quitting altogether for a career in baseball? I'm not sure I'm willing to sacrifice certain things to work for the Marlins.

Also, I feel like I'll get really depressed if I move back home. I only have three close friends back home. One who I consider a workaholic, one who is never up to any good and one who I've unfortunately fallen out of contact with. I only imagine myself doing three things back in Miami. Hanging out with Niccolo, hanging out with my parents and going to work. I feel like my social skills will be crippled by returning to a big city. Especially when I know I'd be missing everyone back in Gainesville badly.

At the moment, there is no decision to make. I'm going to drive down to Miami next month and apply for an internship. Then I'll wait and see if I even get it. I know my friends will want me to stay and my parents will want me to come back home. I know I can't make everyone happy. At the very least, I need to make myself happy.

"As if every thought that tumbles through your head was so clever it would be a crime for it not to be shared."

October Never Seems This Cold

I stepped outside this morning and I felt the chill. The weather is starting to cool down and memories are coming with it. Living in Florida all of my life has me too use to hot weather. I've spent a Christmas or two in flip flops and a t-shirt. When the cold weather rolls in, it's so rare that I think about everything significant that has occurred to me in the cold. Weirdly enough, all of the romance I've found in college was during the very chilly months. I'm prompted to spill out all of my nostalgia onto this blog. Let's get to it.

I came into college with a girlfriend doing a long distance thing. We met in the summer months so I credit that and many other reasons why I absolutely hated her. Don't feel bad. She hated me too. After that, I got into three other relationships and the initial lovey dovey contact began in the cold months. To be precise, November, January and February. I'm developing a few theories as to why this is.

My first one is that I'm simply trying to get warmer. It was bizarre discovering how much colder it can get Gainesville than in Miami. I'm not talking a few degrees either. I'm talking a difference of twenty degrees. I assume my South Floridian blood naturally sent me out in search of a female to curl up next to and get toasty. But if it's merely a case of survival than why did I seek out females? Females with beauty beyond belief might I add. (Editor's note: They subscribe to this blog with the exception of long distance girlfriend. Fuck you, Sarah.) That's because I enjoy the finer things in life. Could you imagine if I blanketed myself with dirty dish towels when I could acquire I blanket made of velvet and rabbit fur? That would be madness. College girls make the best comforters.

Another theory I have going is Valentine's Day. I grew up in spite of Valentine's Day because I always wanted a girlfriend but was too much of a geek to get one. So when the date drew close I would snarl when in actuality I wanted to celebrate it so very much with a beautiful girl who thought I was funny and smart. No lie, whenever I even started liking a girl I would start making plans for Valentine's Day. I would be like, "This is it. This is the year I don't have to spend it alone because I'm in loooooooooovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvve." I was pathetic. I am happy to say that I have not had to spend the last three Valentine's Days alone. (Editor's note: You hear that, Sarah. I'm not going to die watching Royal Rumbles in a continuous loop. You're the joke now. Your middle name is Margarita.)

Or it's probably all a fluke. How knows why, where or when they find romance? Guess I'm just glad that I continue to. I just find it funny how the weather can trigger so many sensations in the brain. (Editor's note: Author will no longer discuss romance in his blog as he divulges mushy details. Barf.)

"I didn't ask for a shrink - that must've been somebody else. Also, that pudding isn't mine. Also, I'm wearing this suit today because I had a very important meeting this morning and I don't have a crying problem."

Caskets & Charge Cards

I'm undergoing a few negative vibes at the moment. This is unfortunate because I should be highly elated right now. I finally got my camera ordered. It's a beautiful HD camera that comes with all sorts of gizmos including a tripod, lights, memory card, lenses and it's own carrying case. I got a great deal on everything for $2500. Right now I should be thinking about all of the fantastic videos I'm about to make but instead I'm thinking about how fucking broke I might end up being.

I love my job but I'm only making $8 an hour and 20 hours a week. That comes out to $160 a week, $320 biweekly, $640 a month without all the taxes getting taken out. I'm paying off this camera monthly at $200 a month. That leaves me at $440 a month. My free ride in Dave's house is over. I now have to start paying rent at $490 a month. That leaves me at -$50 a month. Now I need another source of income to cover food and gas. This also means I'm going to have to sacrifice some luxuries. I don't know how I'm going to decide all that. No more drinking and no more going to the movies for me. My dad said he would help me out but I really feel like I've got to do my best to get this done myself. I recently got some investment funds transferred over into my name but my dad stressed not to use that money because the market has bottomed out and has nowhere to go but up. Each account has $6000 and $27000 in it respectively. But this isn't money I can just pull out of the ATM. I can't imagine how quickly I would blow through it if I could. All of this number talk has already got my head spinning. I wish we would just switch back over to the barter system. I give great back rubs.

In addition to feeling like I have no money, I've got death on my mind. You know those people who say they aren't afraid to die? How do they know? Right now I can say I'm not scared but that's because the notion of dying seems impossible. I recently heard a story on the radio about a guy who killed a bicyclist in a car accident and wrote a book about it. I found the story touching but also haunting. It made me think about how it is so much easier to die than it is to live.

These feelings warped me back to a time in elementary school. We had a guest speaker. She had every one in the class do an exercise where you would wear a hand puppet and through the puppet you would express your greatest fear. I guess this was to prevent you from feeling embarrassed about saying it out loud. Going around the room, kids only said one of two things. Dogs and the dark. Finally, it got to me. I truly was afraid of the dark but I didn't want to say it because so many others already had. I was anxious about being called a copycat. My answer was drowning. My response derailed the exercise. Both the guest speaker and the teacher started to talk about how it was natural to be afraid to die. Them making such a big deal about the issue didn't soothe things. If anything it made me more anxious.

It's not as if death is all I think about now. It certainly became more real though. I wonder a lot about how I'll die. What it would be like if I died right now. How it would affect my parents. What would become of all my things. Whether there would be a memorial. How long until everyone would move on.

I don't think I'm being morbid. In fact, I say thinking about death keeps me humble. It keeps me appreciating what I have to live for.

"Once upon a time there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. And they grew next to each other. And every day the straight tree would look at the crooked tree and he would say, "You're crooked. You've always been crooked and you'll continue to be crooked. But look at me! Look at me!" said the straight tree. He said, "I'm tall and I'm straight." And then one day the lumberjacks came into the forest and looked around, and the manager in charge said, "Cut all the straight trees." And that crooked tree is still there to this day, growing strong and growing strange."

The Take

Today I check in talking about my identity. Not in terms of 'who am I' and 'where am I going.' I'm speaking in terms of who I am as a comic and what I'm trying to personify when I go on stage. I found myself first trying to discover the answer when I went to my film school interview at FSU back in the fall. I told them I did stand up comedy and one of the board members asked me what my take was. Take? I had never been asked that before. That was seven months ago and I still don't know the answer.

I came up with this explanation a few months ago. I am unassuming and I go into situations always expecting positive results. I put too much faith in humanity and get burned by it. Or perhaps I am a little too cocky sometimes and the world proves to be a much bigger and badder wolf than I thought it could be. This seems like a lot of words after you look at a successful comic like Lewis Black and realize his take is: We're All Fucked. Three words to sum up his act and he slays every where he goes. I'm not sure if my "take" is even really mine. I think of it as the bullshit answer you give on an exam just because it is slightly less embarrassing than turning in a blank sheet of paper. How about this for a take? I'm funny but I'm working on getting funnier.

Questions of my stage identity have woken in me after a conversations with my girlfriend and my good friend, JC. My girlfriend has been with well before I decided I wanted to be a comic. She already thought I was hilarious but more so because of my personality quirks. She doesn't understand why none of these quirks surface in my act. She thinks my act would go over better if I was able to incorporate them. The problem is my quirks are normal to me. So normal that I don't she the humor in them. Even when my girlfriend points out how bizarre I'm acting. For whatever reason I can't wrap my head around how to be more like myself on stage. Perhaps I should do something on stage to make me feel more comfortable. Something to help me not come off so forced.

JC told me about how I have a split personality on stage. I keep wanting Paul Brawl (my wrestling alter ego) on stage even though just Paul is probably funnier. He told me if I'm dying on stage, I tend to wait for Paul Brawl to bail me out. He does most of the time. But Paul Brawl doesn't want to be a comic. He wants attention and any kind of reaction he can get out of a crowd. What I've got to do is take his best qualities and put them in my act. I need his confidence but not his attitude.

To sum it up, there's a master plan for making my act unique. I've got the material and I'm a good writer. I need Paul the writer, Paul's personality quirks and Paul Brawl's confidence to come together like zords on the stage. But sonovabitch, that is much easier said than done.

"Hey, you created me. I didn't create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility!"

Numbers Game

There is no greater feeling in the world than reassurance. (Please make note of this should I ever use this term again. Ex: 'There is no greater feeling in the world than disco tech.') This weekend was full of those things. I got to have a lovely evening out with my girlfriend, threw an awesome party for my friends, and I've been being put to use as a comic. The party was great because I had everything I'm living for right now in a close proximity. I also had seven beers and a four loko. Four loko is a drink I never plan on drinking sober, by the way.

The feeling of reassurance comes via knowing I have a very talented group of people at my disposal. The numbers are great and there is always power in numbers. I went home last week and talked with my father on acquiring the camera I've been wanting. I should have it by next month as soon as I get some credit debt taken care of. This camera will be the missing link in all my creative endeavors. I've got enough people to have a cast and crew and make some real films. Nothing would make me happier than to see TWO HALVES become a feature length film. Right now, I feel like I've got this block of wood and I can carve whatever I want out of it. I'm about to carve out some opportunities. The point I've stressed before is I don't need to go to film school to make films. I'm full of all sorts of ideas and Victor Hugo once wrote, "There is nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has come."

Going completely off topic, I hate rainy days. I hate people who say they like rainy days. (If you've ever petitioned to have class outside, I hate you too.) What is so great about a rainy day? Only fun things get cancelled on account of rainy days like picnics, baseball games, beach trips, white pride parades, etc. If I'm going to buy into this love for rainy days propaganda, I'm going to need rainy days to start ruining things that suck. If I got a call tomorrow from my boss telling me to stay home and play video games because it's raining then I'll be pro rainy days. Until then, grab yourself an umbrella and shut it.

"I don't scratch my head unless it itches and I don't dance unless I hear some music. I will not be intimidated. That's just the way it is."

My Destiny Infinity

This week marked my first week working for Destiny Infinity Financial Solutions. So far it has to be the best job I've ever had. No one makes me clean anything or asks me to carry something heavy. They ask me to make copies of documents and talk on the phone for most of the day. I'm even able to sandbag how hard I'm working by just staring at a folder for ten minutes while I think about new soup selections to submit to Chef Boyardee. (I've got a good feeling about ice cream pizza, especially if it is turkey flavored.) I get to leave every day at 3pm and I get fridays off. Where has this job been waiting for me all my life? I could probably get all of my work done by 1pm if I used my full potential but I'm trying to accumulate hours and make some money. Wrestling rings aren't free, folks.

Part of my many tasks is to update the company's facebook page. This involves posting on the everyone's wall. That let me get creative with it. I tend to go the silly route by personifying bad credit by explaining all of the horrible things I want to do to it like sodomy. But if they don't 'like' the comment without a matter of days then I threaten to unfriend them and update my status to say "Wendy Schlosser could pay her bills on time if she stopped spending so much money on black tar heroin." So call Destiny Infinity Solutions and sodomize bad credit.

"Bastard Son of Barney! Die! Die, stuffed ball of fluff! Illegitimate Teletubbie! Die, you Muppet from hell! Die, you foam motherfucker!"

Skullsplitter.

This week I have returned to my hometown of North Miami Beach where it all started. My education, my goals and the molding of my personality. I left high school aspiring to be a great director and as it stands I am an aspiring comedian with a job in finance. The job in finance is funny considering how I never took a course in the field. In fact, the closest I've come to anything related was a microeconomics course I took my second year of college which I withdrew from because I didn't understand the whole robots & pizza, butter & guns analogy. Why do the robots need pizza? At least it's not robots & guns. Then we'd be witnessing the rise of the machines. I blame you James Cameron. So if you need help repairing your credit call Paul Brawl at 352-374-7020 to make the rain clouds go away. But don't call after the three because I use the rest of the afternoon to read wrestling forums. Don't call on Friday either. I use that day to work on my remake of the Bring It On movies on my pool deck. My dog Sammy is gunning for Jesse Bradford's role.

For more solemn news, I had to cancel the date for a show I was going to do in Miami. I was going to feature for my friend JC Currais but the date coincides with my official start date at my new job. So that's that. I've been singing the "There will be other opportunities song" all day.

On my way home to Miami yesterday I remembered how I got into this magnet school called Rainbow Park for my fourth grade year. It was exciting because I was going to work strictly in broadcasting and video production work. I had always wanted to be on the announcements and it was finally going to happen. I only spent one day at the school because the bus transportation system was screwed up. The first day the bus picked me up an hour after class started and the next day it didn't come at all. My dad was fed up with it and enrolled me back in Greynolds Park where I could easily walk to. I wasn't given the opportunity to do any broadcast work again until my junior year of high school.
I think about how much more skilled I'd be with a camera had things at Rainbow park had worked out. I can't imagine how different I would be now. I'm not even sure I would've ended up at UF and have the friends I have now which are invaluable to me. The question is would I give up the life as I know it now in order to have the job and career I always imagined myself to have. This kind of think creates a splitting headache.

"Jake, they took my penis."

Good Fortune

I've been enjoying my unemployment. I can't believe I sacrificed it for the last two months to work in a bakery all night. I can't believe I'm about to give it all up again starting monday. Of course, I haven't run out of money yet so I'm sure I'd be singing a different tune in a few weeks if I didn't have this new job. I think about my daily routine and how I've built my own little utopia this past week. How I get to play with the dogs, cook up food, do stage shows with my friends and drink excessive amounts. A lifestyle like that can't last forever, though. Not when there are bills to pay.

This was also a grand week in stand up comedy for myself and all my whacky friends. Even considering we had to cancel our inaugural show at Mother's this past wednesday. We still had sizable crowds at our other four shows. I took on the hosting duties for two of the shows and received good compliments from audience members and other comics. I also got to help run the shows. The week had me feeling good as I learned some things about running a comedy show and to keep audiences enthused. Short post this time because this is how it is and this is how it goes.

"You're pretentious, this club sucks, I have beef. Let's fight."

Not Really Into That

This time around, I'm going to stray away from my usual fodder of trying to find work, continuing my education and being an entertainer you read about in a magazine. Not necessarily something like Time or Newsweek but I'll take The Fine Print for now. (I have been published in there before. All hail the man who writes for free.) I want to talk about the nature of drug use.

Looking at my situation, I don't think there's anyone who would blame me for recreational drug use. I'm young and looking for direction. The only responsibility I have at the moment is keeping myself and my room mate's dogs fed. I could easily be a character in a Bret Easton Ellis novel and I would come off as fucking normal. I feel like I'm primed to take part in drug use but I never do. It's not as if I'm not surrounded by drug use. I'm not sheltered by any means. I hang out with comedians and grew up in Miami for christ's sake. My father was under the influence of all sorts of drugs growing up and tell dabbles in marijuana from time to time. He smoked a bowl in front of me this past new year's eve. My little brother has taken a sizable variety of drugs. I also have close friends who do drugs on a regular basis. Compared to them, I'm a real stiff.

Let me make a few things clear before I continue. I don't frown upon drug use. I'm not a square. I even help my friends out when it comes to acquiring drugs. I set them up with a dealer, give them a ride, I even brought home a big of weed for a friend of mine as a Christmas present once. I've also smoked marijuana on more than one occasion. Only once did I get ridiculously high. I challenged my little brother to a boxing match and he knocked me out right on our front lawn.

I got launched into these thoughts because last night my brother was visiting and he wanted me to smoke with him. This is something he has been getting me to do with him for awhile. It would mean a lot to him for me to do this. I realized this as he got on his knees begging me to smoke with him but still I refused.

So why don't I smoke up? I don't know. I have no stigma. I just don't understand it. I don't understand what an altered state of mind will do for me. I already have an overactive imagination. Just ask my girlfriend and she'll tell you about how we play the magician and the tax auditor. I don't need drugs to mellow out either. For that, I have beer. I love drinking and sampling craft brews has become a hobby of mine. I also dive into my hobbies such as baseball to mellow out. For at least a few hours a night, I'm busy acting like the outcome a Hanley Ramirez at bat is all I live for. In a nutshell, I don't feel drugs can offer me anything. Not anything I can already construct with my mind. That's just the way it is.

So when I get offered some drugs, I say no thanks. That should be the end of the transaction. I don't need to hear about how it will expand my mind, make me feel good or any other sales pitch. I don't get into anyone's face about how they could be destroying their brain or doing a disservice to their recently deceased mother whenever they puff, pop or huff. Believe it or not; we can party together. You can bring your drugs and I'll bring a 6-pack of Woodchuck Amber Ale. Just don't try to show me how to live, brother.

"I promised myself, I'm gonna die for something that counts."

Quitting Time

This day was a long time coming. The day I quit Dunkin Donuts. Now, I know that I had said that I put in my two weeks notice. I was even going to be given a letter of recommendation but there was just something inside of me that made me say fuck everything. I already had a shitty day at work Monday. The district manager was visiting the store so my boss was throwing a fit over the upkeep of the store. I was suppose to be working with this other guy but he fucking ducks out on me without any explanation. So I got left to bake the donuts, deliver to the stores and clean the kitchen all by myself. I don't know how but I managed to stop myself from walking out of there forever.

Then, wednesday night came. They were sending me over to another store to replace a guy they had fired. A guy that was really fucking good as his job. I get there and I have to do everything all by myself just like monday night. I grit my teeth and get to work, thinking will pull through. But then I realized that I had to make jelly munchkins. JELLY MUNCHKINS! I FUCKING HATE JELLY MUNCHKINS!

I stood in the freezer for a good ten minutes, deciding on whether or not I had it in me to get through the night and the next few nights. I was just like the prisoner with only a week left on his sentence. All I had to do was grit my teeth and clench my fists and I would've been out of there. But those jelly munchkins were the guy with a shiv that had it out for me. If I didn't make a break for it, I'd be dead and my freedom wouldn't mean shit anymore.

This was a 24/7 store so I walked up to the only other guy there and said this. "I'm sorry to do this to you on your shift. Call up whoever you need to call and let them know I quit. I'm tired. I'm going home." Just like that I was out the door and soaking up my freedom. I keep expecting to get a down pour of phone calls and voice mails but nothing yet. It seems they took the hint and I can make a clean break. Especially since my direct deposit kicked in. Meaning I never have to walk back into that store again.

One of these days, I'm going to have the best job ever. A job where I am nobody's monkey and nobody's robot. There will be dancing in the streets that day.

"Now you're looking for the secret. But you won't find it because of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be fooled."

Two Halves

Why haven't I made a movie yet? Before the summer started, I had a very aggressive nature about getting one done. It seems that I did a fairly good job of making excuses for myself not to do one. Excuses like always being tired, not having the money or not feeling prepared enough. I think what stops me is my least favorite part of it all. Development. I'm very lazy about developing an idea. I hate doing second drafts. I want to get everything done in one take and bask in the glory of being a creative genius. It's as if I long for this technology where my ideas can be projected directly onto a screen or pages to prevent myself from writing or drafting anything. Another big part of it is how self-conscoius I can feel after writing something down. It's sort of the way you talk to someone online but they are kind of disappointing once you meet them in person. I'm afraid that once my idea becomes this physical thing for others to see and critique, it will be disappointing. I can't bear the risk of other people telling me that I'm not as talented as I think I am. It's about time that I start saying "fuck the critics." Giving up is way harder than trying.

The revelation is that this blog now has another purpose. I will use it to try and flush out my ideas for a movie. Anyone who reads it is encouraged to give suggestions, tell me that I'm brilliant or tell me that my time will be better served clearing roadways in Iraq for the U.S. Army. Here is what I bring to you today.

I don't necessarily like romantic comedies but my favorite film, Punch Drunk Love, technically is one. I feel like I've got a good idea for a romantic comedy and I could use my style to keep it from being a cheese fest like any Jennifer Lopez movie ever. Much like guys like Charlie Kaufman and P.T. Anderson have done.

My idea is about a young couple that is very much in love. As a goof, they both sign up for one of those dating sites like E-harmony to see if they get matched together. When they don't they decide to each go on a date with their top 5 matches to see if they are really meant for each other.

I figured that 4 of each of their dates could be whacky stuff with eccentric characters I create but then they each find one person that they really click with. I don't really know where to go after they both realize they may have feelings for other people. What interests me about the idea is that it wouldn't be a break up story. They never stop loving each other. They just don't understand how it is possible to have feelings for another person when you're already in love. Something I know that happens to people. I also like the idea because it wouldn't involve one of them keeping a dirty secret from each other. It will be awkward but they will go through these revelations together.

There we have it. I really hope some you can give me suggestions on where I could go with the story and let me know what yo think of the premise. For the time being I will refer to the project as Two Halves when referring to it in future blogs.

"Now more than ever, we need the Jedi."

Hang Around

This has been a funny week. It started with me having a terrible 24 hours. I woke up at 9:30am on Monday and went about my day. Just as I'm about to fall asleep at 2am I get a call from work saying that I am half an hour late. I argue that I wasn't scheduled to work. I get there and they fucking changed the schedule without even telling me. I end up working until 11 in the morning without a wink of sleep. I was pissed. I threatened to quit. I nearly did. I called my father and he convinced me to stick it out. I started to think deeper about everything. I wasn't just my job I hated, it was everything. I felt like ditching town without telling a soul. I wanted to go somewhere new and start from scratch. Anything the relieve me of the fact that my life was mundane. That's what drives me crazy. When I start feeling average and destined for mediocrity. I wanted to curse everything and do it before I had second thoughts.

Wednesday night I was still feeling shitty. I spent most of the day moving my girlfriend into her own place and had to go to work that night at 1am. My friends were out drinking and I thought about fucking those donuts right in their holes. I called my dad for encouragement and he told me to hang in there. I stuck with his advice.

I was at an all time low when the phone rang thursday afternoon. It was Brandon Williams from Destiny Infinity Financial Solutions. He said, "I like you. The board likes you. You've got the job. You start the first of September." Just like that I started to come out of my rut. I felt like quitting Dunkin on the spot but instead did the noble thing and gave two weeks notice. My boss sad he was sad to see me go but knew it was a better job. He offered to write me a letter of recommendation. Now I'll have that should I ever need it.

It is certainly reassuring to know that anything can work out as long as I can stick it out and work diligently. I thank my father for making sure I didn't give up. I didn't take the easy way out and I'm better for it. I guess I'll just hang around until I love this town.

"Ordinary life is pretty complex stuff."

Send Off

Here we are entering another month. It's August and that means we are winding down to the end of another summer. Summer has always held a special place in my heart because it meant no school and therefore the opportunity to accomplish something outside of the daily grind. Last year at this time I was heading to Colorado to learn how to make film by hand. I did it completely off the reservation and ate vegan for an entire week. I felt that I had had a unique experience by the time I returned home. I believe that is a feeling we all try to achieve every summer. This summer, I didn't do anything to that extent but I did visit Los Angeles and I've made mush progress as a comedian.

I wonder how the scheme of that changes now that I am pretty much done with my education. Will summer now become just another time of the year? How will I find the time to break loose from the daily grind? Perhaps the answer is whenever I want. The real question is will I do it sooner rather than later? My friend Tim has got me itching to work on film projects again because I've appeared in a couple of his this summer. My biggest regret of the summer will be not doing enough film related projects. I bickered with my father about getting a camera for the longest and now I continue to waver. Why can't I just get off my ass and work this out already?

The saddest thing about the end of the summer is seeing five of my friends depart. I'm going to be without my friends Rae, Calvin, Brock, Disco and Julie. If I were a professional basketball organization, I would be losing some key players. Now I have to sift through free agency and find some cut-rate friends to fill their spots because you don't find that kind of talent just anywhere. If any of you read this, know that you were ballin' since the day I met you. Except you, Calvin. I remember not liking you for a bit and here's why. I was talking to someone about baseball in class and you butted into the conversation by saying that baseball was boring. You befouled one of my loves and it took sometime to forgive but I'm glad I did.

"We're not bad people, Mac... just underachievers who have to make up for lost time."

Special Delivery

This morning at work, all I had to do was drive the truck and make donut deliveries. Didn't have to answer to anyone. Just me driving around while listening to Them Crooked Vultures. Another reason that I like doing deliveries is that I get to be the mysteriously cute delivery guy. You know who I'm talking about. The guy involved in the subplot of a romantic comedy that is restricted to the lines, "Morning," and "Sign here, please." There are some cashier girls who look forward to me hauling in a shipment every morning because it gives them a few moments to fantasize and forget about their wasted lives. That's the guy I demand to be and I demand to get my regular rate of $7.75 an hour to do it.

None of that might matter though. You see, earlier this week I had a job interview with a finance firm called Destiny Infinity. They help people with credit restoration and financial advisement. I would work as a direct assistant to one of the agents. Not like when I was a money mule. I've actually met him. He subscribes to a lot of my life's philosophies and appreciates my flair for creativity. The majority of the clientele is single mothers. The people over at Destiny Infinity are very personable and they have a genuine passion for helping people who need it. This is exactly the kind of environment I want to be a part of. Plus, I could stand to learn a thing or two about learning finances. These days, finances are incorporated into every facet of your life. I have a second interview with the board of directors next week so here's hoping my days at Dunkin' Donuts are numbered. I burned myself pretty good on the oven last week and there will be a scar. I'm going to have to tell chicks that I fought something firey like a hell demon or a charizard.

One last note, I inquired about studying film at Miami International University. Their program seems pretty solid on paper. I also had a very lengthy conversation with the program director and she sold me pretty well on the idea of moving back home and shooting flicks like Dan Eckman told me for the next few years. Things are looking brighter.

"Man, you better get yourself a castrato for this, 'cause it's a little out of my range."

Boy, Decide

Do you ever feel guilty for getting what you want? The last week had my father and I sort of arguing over whether I could get a professional camcorder. He made the argument that I don't know how to use it so I should take some courses or workshops that way I'm not ill prepared when I get it. This is part of his plan to get me back into school as soon as possible. My argument was that I can easily learn by doing. It is the advice I've heard from many film makers including Robert Rodriguez and Dan Eckman. I actually got to meet Dan Eckman and he told me to just go out and shoot some flicks. I am all for this idea because the concept of more school is pretty blah for me right now.

My father eventually agreed to buy me the camera but I feel like I did it through incessant whining and complaining. You know, he's not buying it for me because he's impressed with any work I've done. Perhaps, there's another route I could've taken but it's foolish to keep flip flopping on the issue. I think I'll just get my camera and shoot some flicks.

I guess I'm stubborn about going back to school because I'll feel like I'm admitting I wasted my four years of college education. Sort of like I was studying all of this stuff when I really should've been studying that stuff. I studied film and media but there were only two production courses offered through the department and they were both very strict about not adhering to any sort of narrative structure, which is what I love to do. Then yesterday I helped my buddy Tim out was his video project. He was shooting a commercial for Smokin' Notes. He's a telecommunications major. Now, I'm realizing I'd rather had been doing stuff like that instead of analyzing the subtext of Decasia.

There are only so many things we're allowed to do in this life and only so many things we can reasonably accomplish well. That's got to be the reason people are living longer. We could all use an extra 5 or 10 years to make sure we really make an imprint on the fabric of time.

"Have you ever been a communist? Have you ever been attacked by a crow or similar large bird?"

Birthday Bash

I had an awesome birthday this year. A bunch of my friends and I went out to a bar that featured laser tag. For the reasonable price of $25 a person, they allowed us to drink as much beer and play as much laser tag as we wanted. I've been thinking about birthday extravaganzas what with my friend Calvin's birthday coming up this week and the fact that I caught an episode of MTV's Super Sweet Sixteen. Once upon a time, I thought the show had a strange charm to it but now it is nothing but a collage of whiny children and their spoiled lives. On my sixteenth birthday I went to the movies to see Dawn of the Dead. Beat that sweet sixteen.

Anyway, every one on this show has to plan out a grand entrance for their party. Some people show up riding an elephant. Others are shot out of a canon and some even simply walk in through the front door. I want to have a birthday party with such a grand entrance and here is exactly how it would go:

There would be a wrestling ring front and center. My friends JC and Dave would be standing in the middle of it with microphones. They would introduce me as the birthday boy and I would walk to the ring. They would praise me and they would raise my arms in the air, heralding me as a champion. Then, jealously turns it's ugly head. Dave points out that he has never received any sort of ceremony like this. JC agrees. In fact, he believes that him and Dave gave been overlooked when it comes to being given birthday party extravaganzas. I try to reason with them. Try to explain that their time will come. They respond, "Waiting is for suckers. Why wait; when you can take?"

They gloves come off and they start pummeling me. I get nailed with clothesline after clothesline. My buddy Kameron hits the ring to aid me but the numbers game catches up to him. It is an all out assault as they take off their belts and start whipping us. It looks like the party has been ruined until over the loudspeakers: "I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD!"

Randy Orton is the surprise special guest at my party. He hits the ring. JC swings a belt at him but Orton ducks. Boom! RKO to JC. Dave runs at Orton but falls victim to a powerslam. Orton starts hulking up, stocking his pray. Dave rises to his feet to suddenly be brought back down with an RKO. The day has been saved. Randy helps Kam and I to our feet. We raise our arms up in triumph but then boom! Randy Orton hits me and Kam with a double RKO but that's okay. He's the viper. That's what he does.

That was incredibly dorky of me to write about but goddammit; it was exciting too.

"The plan is you drink a nice tall glass of Shut The Fuck Up!"

Candlestick Park

Yesterday was the 4th of July and while I couldn't spend it with my family like I usually do. I did spend it with the next best thing, my comic family. We all drove up to a ranch owned by my friend Jacob's family. We all sat down drinking beers and eating delicious smoked ribs. JC and I came up with a 4th of July themed restaurant. It would feature cuts of steak cut into shape of the U.S. Then, a side of mashed potatoes and a side of cole slaw to represent Hawaii and Alaska. Also, some steak sauce poured across to cut to simulate the red stripes on the American flag. Every time this dish is served, the staff must sing America The Beautiful but with slightly different song lyrics including, "Amber waves of gravy." It is because we live in America that let's me know this dream isn't hard to accomplish.

Later in the evening we got a hold of some Roman candles. I was running around with one; pretending I was a wizard. JC suggested that me and my friend Chris both light one and have a Harry Potter fight against each other. Because we are easily manipulated, we said yes. The terms were that we would stand 10 feet away, with our backs turned toward each other. Then, we would light the candles and start dueling. Wouldn't you know it? My lighter doesn't work at first. I panic and start running around while Chris fires at me. My lighter finally works and I fire at Chris. I miss and end up shooting the house. Jacob's mom runs out and puts an end to the shenanigans. It may have been dumb but goddamn did it feel good to be twelve years old again.

On another note, I learned how to drive the truck at work. I had to ride around with my supervisor. We talked and I got to know him well. He told me about his two sons, Lyle and Kyle. He told me about how Lyle had passed away two years ago and Kyle had recently had surgery. I told him about how I had recently graduated from college. He then mentioned he got done registering his son for college. The funny thing is, he specified that it was Kyle that was going to college. Well, thank goodness. Could you imagine your first day of college if Lyle was your room mate? "Hey, what's up? I'm Paul. What's your name?..... Don't talk much do you?.... Don't move much either.... Is that rigor mortis you got there?"

Never give up and seeking bliss.

"So if you wake up one morning and it's a particularly beautiful day, you'll know we made it."

This Skin Don't Fit Me

Here is my latest thought dwelling in my mind. My friends are moving on. By the end of the month I will have lost two of my friends as they sail away to start new chapters of their life. Meanwhile, here I'll be baking donuts. I've known about them leaving for quite awhile now. It just didn't really until yesterday when my one friend gave me the exact date she's leaving. My still being in my college town makes me worry. It makes me worry that I'm stunting my growth and I won't learn anything new about myself until I embark on a new journey to a new town. Oh, how I wish I was more adventurous but in reality I play it safe. I try to make as little changes as I can to my life.

What's bugging me is how I compare college graduation to high school graduation. When I graduated high school, I was the one leaving town with my friends staying behind. It was scary but I ended up being better for it. They were proud of me and always made sure I was handling myself well in college. Now, I've graduated college and I'm on the other side of the fence. I'm watching my friends ship off and hoping they'll send me back a postcard.

This where I start playing should have, could have. I think about where I'd be right now if I got into film school. Probably more relieved because I would have the next two years of my life already figured out for me. I'd be saying goodbye to everyone by the end of the summer and they would think to themselves as I drove off, "There goes Paul. That guy is going to make all of us proud." I want to get excited about something but I don't think I can make it happen without risking a lot. Not without giving up all the foundation I've got built up here in Gainesville. I know I can't stay here forever. It is all a matter of how long I can stay and where the hell will I go after.

"Protecting the Queen's safety is a task that is gladly accepted by Police Squad. No matter how silly the idea of having a queen might be to us, as Americans, we must be gracious and considerate hosts."

Keeping Up With Brawl

Just to update all of you, this is life as I currently know it. I work late hours in a bakery and do stand up comedy while waiting for my girlfriend to graduate from college. I've been at it for two weeks now and so far so good. I learned how to drive the truck at work. Driving the truck brings me peace during my work day. I got to know my manager, Cliff, well as we made deliveries and he is a stand up human being. He's been married twice and has been with his current wife for twenty years now. They use to live in Vermont. They moved to Florida to get away from his ex-wife. One day Cliff was driving and saw a car with Vermont plates. He pulled up to the vehicle and sure enough it was his ex-wife. Her and her new boyfriend spend their summers in Gainesville. Life is too much irony sometimes.

I see myself doing this until the end of the year. Then, I think it will be time to pack up shop and move. I'm going to apply for a job as a copyrighter in Chicago. It's not so much the job but the town that has got me excited. I've got family in Chicago and it's a great place to practice comedy. My friend Calvin went there last weekend and hearing about his trip made me nostalgic for a visit. That job in Chicago is looking more ideal everyday.

If that doesn't work out then I'll apply to grad school somewhere in state. Whether it be here, Orlando or back home in Miami. I was depressed for a bit but lately I've taken a step back and started to see my options open up. I'm young and talented so there's a place for me in this world. It's up to me to find it.

On a final note, I've found the key to sharpening my stage presence. Suits. In particular, suit jackets. I did a show Thursday night and I felt the most comfortable I've ever felt on stage. It showed too and all because I was wearing a suit jacket. Now, the suits are part of my look. Trust me. I can wear the fuck out of a suit.

That will rap things up for now. I want everyone who reads this to think about their five favorite films of all time. I've been trying to compile a list and it isn't easy. Makes me curious to see what others may put on theirs. Later.

"They're not gonna catch us. We're on a mission from God."

Sour Cream

Management at Dunkin Donuts is utterly bizarre. Last night they sent me to another location for training but that training consisted of me watching a guy do everything I've already been taught how to do for six hours. The guys training me didn't even know what the purpose of having me there was. I'm a bit afraid that the hours of this job are warping my behavior somehow. I feel more bitter and angrier. Not at the donuts but more of my status in life. I work a graveyard shift in a donut shop. Truth be told, I'm embarrassed to tell anyone I work with that I graduated from college. No one else there has. I'm afraid I'll be looked at like some kind of space alien. Someone will say, "You didn't have to go to school to be a donut baker," and I will feel like dying right then and there.

There are moments when I'm at work and I think about just moving away. Moving away and starting fresh. Where no one knows me and I can start a new reputation. Not that I'm ashamed of my current reputation. I've got two parts of me, one I loath and one I love. I loathe the guy who's working a job he hates but I love the guy who gets up on stage and makes people laugh. I know that the guy I love can't exist without the guy I loathe.

There's a big emotional girl beneath this pasty white flesh. I've been crying the last two days. Monday I woke up crying after a bizarre dream. I don't recall what it was about but I remember something or someone uttered, "I love you," and then I'm sitting up in bed hysterical and very much afraid. Then yesterday I went to go see Toy Story 3 and there was nothing I could do to keep from balling up. The movie made me nostalgic to be a kid again. It made me wish I wasn't grown up and that the world was however I imagined it to be. It was the unconditional love that Woody showed for Andy that moved me the most. It feels silly to have an emotional connection with an inanimate object but I understand it. I'm going to stop writing before I start crying again.

"There's a snake in my boot."

Not Another Day

Thursday night was my first night back in the work force. I forgot how it felt to break my back over things that mean very little to me. For instance, making sure that every single jelly munchkin is filled with jelly. I have to do that one by one and the repetitiveness of it drives me insane. As far as making first impressions go, I certainly made a unique one. My shift was started at 10pm and I was already tired because I had spent the previous night drinking and keeping Australia from invading into Asia. I spent my Thursday mostly hungover.

I showed up and the front of the store was closed down so I had to go around the back. I had to rest of my paper work with me and it was raining so I concealed it underneath my shirt. What I didn't know is that no one had informed anyone that I was starting that night. I also hadn't been given a uniform yet so I showed up in street clothes. Here I am, lazily walking up to the back room of the store, something hidden underneath my shirt at 10pm on a rainy night and no one has any idea who I am. Naturally, the first person to see me thinks I'm robbing the place.

His reaction was something to this extent, "Oh shit! Listen, man. Take whatever you want. I'll even help you. Just let me hold $200 and let me tell the cops you made me eat some of these donuts. But don't given the money here. They've got cameras. I'll meet you around the corner."

So like I said, a unique first impression. The job can be fun but sucky at the same time. Fun to decorate donuts. Sucky to clean the oven.

"You must lash out with every limb, like the octopus who plays the drums."

Time To Make The Donuts

After my recent setback in the job search, I am proud to say that I have bounced back. Friday morning I marched right into Dunkin Donuts in a button down shirt that didn't quite fit me and got the job. Hell yeah. Money money. This is the response I gave that sealed the deal, "I watch a lot of baseball. As an employee, I think of myself as a utility player. You put me at any position and I'm going to give you the A effort." Boom. Feel free to use that in your next job interview but be sure to say it with swagger.

What's the job? I am a donut baker. I feel like this position suits me well for two reasons. The first one being that I don't have to talk to any customers. The only mouthing off I'm going to get is from a strawberry frosted donut. The other reason is I don't have to make any of those stupid sandwiches or coffee drinks. I love donuts but I feel like having to make coffee would drive me insane. Mostly because it tastes like tar and I have to put in four packets of sugar to make it tolerable. Even then, it tastes like gulping down a full ash tray. So to hell with all you coffee drinkers. I run on adrenaline.

There are 4 comedy shows here in the town of Gainesville. Like I always do, I make an analogy between them and pro wrestling. The monday show at Gator City is the equivalent of Smackdown and last night was my debut. I was immediately met with a challenge upon reaching the stage. Some woman kept yelling, "Go Gators," at me. So was pissing me off so I let her have it. I called her a retarded parrot. I let her know how much I hated her. The crowd was cheering me on and I was rewarded with two shots from the bar. Being mean to women earns you alcohol? My girlfriend is in for a world of trouble. Once that was over I made the mistake of doing my material. Regardless, I found it to be a strong and successful debut on the Smackdown roster. I made an impact and soon enough, I'll be gunning for the Intercontinental championship.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that there is a naked woman!"

Adventures In Unemployment

Made a new break in my quest for employment. I had a visit with the career resource center on campus and they told me about all these different agencies that work on finding jobs and internships for college students. The good people at the CRC are helping me become a master of my domain. Finding a part time job hasn't become any easier though. I'm looking in on working as a realtor. I also hear that Dunkin Donuts is hiring so hot dog. I can't wait to sneak bites of a bavarian cream filled donut while shooing away the flies. I like their coffee, though. That's pretty irrelevant as I don't drink coffee. I could be a pizza delivery driver but I hear that's is easy job to get killed doing. Second only behind taxi driver. Am I willing to die over some pizza? I hope that's not on the job application.

So since I don't have a job, what the fuck is it I do all day? Writing for this blog and stand up material are obvious answers but they don't take up a great part of my day. Here are some other ways I pass the time.

Masturbating: I guess this is an obvious answer also. I wake up at about 1pm and start surfing for porn on the internet to take care of my afternoon wood. I like the ones with a story but I can never seem to make it to the end.

Fantasy Baseball: I think about chicks in tight t-shirts boning on the infield grass. That and scream at Mark Texiera for having a .220 batting average.

Wishing: Mostly this consists of hoping Wells Fargo starts billing someone else for me credit card charges and that person is a billionaire with no time to check his charges and just pays my bill without complaining about it. I wish for that and a Panda Express to be a wing in my house.

That's enough of this. Let's just wish for more wishes like any smart person would.

"Here's to the pencil pushers. May they all get lead poisoning."

The Mail Always Fails

I am now taking issue with the United States Postal Service. No, it has nothing to do with the fake check that they assisted in delivering to my house. While it did make me angry, it did not bring me to my breaking point. I'm talking about another isolated incident. Last week, I received someone else's mail at my home. The address said 631 on it. I moved into this neighborhood a few weeks ago and I considered this an opportunity to get acquainted with the neighborhood and do a good deed. I went in search of house 631 to put the mail in it's rightful place.
My house number is 561 so I had no clue is to where 631 would be in relation to where I live. It didn't take too long though. I put their mail in the box and was on my way, happy that I could do something neighborly. On my way back I noticed that the house next door to me had the numbers 631 on it. I have no idea how I did this but I put the mail in the wrong fucking mail box. I headed back to the other house to correct my mistake; knowing fully that doing so will make it appear that I am stealing their mail. I figured that if I were to be caught, I could provide a reasonable explanation to clear matters up.
I took the mail out of the box and sure enough some goon comes charging out of the house; looking to make a citizen's arrest. Allow me to transcribe the conversation that took place.

"What are you doing? You can't take my mail."
"I'm not stealing it. I'm taking it back because I put it here."
"It's still mine. It was in my box."
"No. It's not yours. I'm going to return where it belongs."
"So it belongs to you then?"
"No, it isn't mine and it isn't yours."
"Why did you put someone else's mail in my box?"

We spent the next ten minutes playing Abbot and Castillo; trying to figure out who's on first. The post office framed me. I wanted to do a nice thing and they made me look like a lunatic. I made it onto the Neighborhood Watch's Most Wanted list. I am now in constant protest of the United States Postal Service. I protest by drinking heavily and headbutting all the mail boxes on my block. Screw your government programs.

"I haven't missed you. In fact, I've been revoltingly unfaithful to you."

DreamChaser

It has been a week of some highs and lows but I currently stand at a low. That well-paying job I had was a scam and I feel like a fool for not knowing it all along. There is no Roberts Filter Group and there is no orphanage in Malaysia. Nothing but a bunch of deception. I went from thinking I was going to have $500 in my pocket this weekend to hoping that I get hired at the cracker barrel. Then, I got home to Miami today to find out that my cat, Ralph, had died. I had home since I was in the second grade and he probably was the sweetest creature I've ever come into contact with. I loved that cat.

I took my friend out for his birthday tonight. He had to work until 7pm on a friday on his birthday and then he couldn't stay at too late because he has to be back at work at 6:30 in the morning. He's not going to see a single day off for the next two weeks. I told my dad about this and he asked me if I wanted the same thing for myself. I have no idea.

He's concerned about me though. He's worried that I'll take a job just for the money and never have the time to do the things I want. He wants me to work at something I love even if it means doing it for free. He's pushing me to pick up an internship, go back to school and even move back home to Miami to do it.

I don't know why that all seems easier said then done. It just happens to be easier to chase money than to chase dreams. Truth is, I'm afraid the move from Gainesville right now, even if it means I have a better shot of chasing a dream. My girl is there. All my friends are there. I feel like the more I try to grow up, the harder it gets. I thought graduating meant moving forward but instead I feel like I took two steps forward just to take two steps back. I'm undergoing an identity crisis. I don't know where I belong.

"Rule number one; embrace the darkness. Rule number two; kill your fear. And rule number three; live for death."

Noble Causes

The personal assistant job seems pretty legit now. My first check is supposed to be delivered to me tomorrow and I'm making 500 bones. I'm still cautious about the whole thing and I believe that's rightfully so for a few reasons. First, my original assignment was to go to a toy store and buy a bunch of toys for an orphanage. That sounds noble and easy but last night I found out that the orphanage is in Malaysia. Now, instead of buying these toys, I'm suppose to send the money to the orphanage via Western Union. I ask myself why he couldn't send the money order himself. I feel a little odd doing business with a Malaysian orphanage with my first week on the job. I've found an explanation though. He had wanted me to buy the toys and ship them but then realized that the shipping would be costly. I looked at the tracking number on the check and it was processed on Monday. Meaning, he had already sent me the check before he realized how much having me ship the toys myself would cost. Even if I do get swindled out of my savings, at least it's for the children, right?

Another strange occurrence is that today I received an e-mail asking for a P.A. that was the same verbatim that my current employer sent me. There are even similar details such as being 49 years old and having a previous P.A. 6 months ago. The only difference is this guy works as a pathologist for World Hope International. Is this some kind of fluke email or is there some kind of Robin Hood version of Skynet going on? My room mate, Dave has a theory that there is this AI working for the greater good of mankind and I'm just a pawn. Like, the AI is stealing funds from banks and then sending it to me to do good with it. I feel I should be creeped out but this air of nobility around it has got me sticking around. My codename is Little John.

My stand up comedy act is doing well. Last week I drove to Orlando to perform at an open mic and I was just pleased that everyone payed attention to me. Last night, I performed at one of my usual spots. I decided to let loose with it and I saw some good results. I've always been self-conscoius about my stage presence but I'm starting to feel it come around. It makes me thankful for my family of comics and to everyone out there who has been giving me undying support.

"Look at us. We're like a couple of girls on the last day of camp."

Dangerous Maximus

Gladiators were the men of envy in Ancient Rome. They beat and slashed their way from arena to arena. They did it in front of thousands of spectators. The nastiest of the gladiatorswere rewarded for their brutality by the affections of the fans. People came out and cheered fortheir favorite fighters to disembowel and decapitate any poor bastard. This dated as far back as310 BC. In 2008, it continues. Only we don't use the name "gladiator" anymore. Instead, we call them "wrestlers."

If you're a ten year old wrestling fan, stop reading now. Wrestling isn't real. Not real in the sense that no one is trying to hurt each other. The last word to use to describe wrestling is fake.You have to have balls of steel to step into the squared circle. There's nothing fake about thebroken bones and missing teeth that come out of this business. A better word to use is staged.

The winners are planned out in advance and guys are working together rather than competing but it still takes an amazing amount of athleticism and physical stamina. One thing that doesn't change is that the champion is the top dog. In the Championship Wrestling Coalition (CWC), Dangerous Maximus was that top dog.

Sullivan 'Sully' Morris a.k.a. Dangerous Maximus was formerly The Jester at the Prestige Wrestling League and Baron Von Badd at Elite Action. He had finally found his niche here in theCWC and after enough clawing, was rewarded for his efforts by being named the HeavyweightChampion. He had been touring with the company for an entire year now. He was always the

first guy there to set up the ring and the last one to leave.

For him and his fellow gladiators, a different city filled in for Rome and a different building filled in for the Coliseum every night. Tonight, it was the Pensacola Civic Center in Pensacola, Florida. The fans poured into the confines with merchandise dedicated to Dangerous Maximus.

They had on his shirts and others made signs declaring that "Maximus Is King." The fans would be rewarded for their loyalty as the main event was booked as Dangerous Maximus vs. Goliath Gruesome for the Heavyweight championship. Guys were jealous of Sully in the back because they all wanted to taste the gold. Kasper Jackson was no different. Kasper Jackson a.k.a. Goliath Gruesome was CWC's top heel and had been feuding with Sully for three months. He was repeatedly given titles opportunities and was repeatedly booked to lose. He was bigger than any other guy in the locker room and would be the

true champ if these fights were for real. As big as he was, he was overlooked. Tonight would be another attempt at the title that would end in a losing effort.

Sully was being taped up by a trainer when he was approached by Paul Williams a.k.a Deadly D. Paul and Sully had held the CWC tag team titles before Sully was pushed to the top of the card and made champ. Paul was left behind on the mid-card.

"Pat wants to see you in his office before you hit the ring," Paul informed.

"Yeah? Any idea what for?" Jacob 'Pat' Patrick was the head promoter of CWC. He booked the matches and the winners. He was the man who decided your fate.

"No idea." Paul went from business to a more casual demeanor. "So you're going to beat Kasper for what...like the second time this month?"

"I guess so. As long as Pat keeps booking it."

"He should wise up and elevate some of the other talent around here. You know, keep things fresh."

The trainer finished up the tape job on Sully's right ankle. Sully slipped his boots on. There was hardly any talking to him before a match. That's how focused and dedicated he was. He picked up the gold and headed out the door to see Pat without a goodbye to Paul.

Sully opened the door to Pat's office without knocking. He peered inside to see Pat's feet up on the desk. Pat was having a conversation with Kasper that came to a halt with Sully's arrival. Pat gave Kasper a wink and motioned him out the door so he could have a private word with Sully. Pat was short, bald and wore a set of horn rimmed glasses. Kasper complied to Pat's

orders but not before taking a long lingering stare at Sully. Pat took a Cuban cigar out of the breast pocket of his jacket and lit it up. Business and pleasure always went hand and hand with Pat.

"How is it going champ? Ready to main event?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Patrick."

Pat gave a smile like the cat that ate the canary. "You've been my champ for about six months and it's been good for business. Your merchandise outsells all these over guys and there's no need to be modest. The fans are out here tonight to see you defend that belt." Pat took a long drag from the cigar and exhaled through his nostrils. "Your success has been good but it's also

made things predictable. There's no intrigue because the great Dangerous Maximus always wins."

"What's this about?"

"I think you already know. I'm tired and the other guys here are tired. We're tired of seeing Dangerous Maximus as the champ. So there's a change of plans. Tonight, Danger is dropping the belt to Goliath."

"Come on, Pat. Your going to let these other guys pull your strings? The fans want me as champ because I bust my ass harder than everyone. I stick around and sign autographs while the other guys go to some titty bar and buy blow."

"The fans want you so as long as I want you! They'll eat up whatever I serve them. You've had your spotlight long enough. It's about time to spread the wealth. You're dropping the belt and then taking a back seat in the mid card. Fans will still buy your shit and shout your name. Now get the fuck out there and give them a show."

Sully damn near tore the door off the hinges as he left. Some guys chose to wait and earn their shots while other guys chose to play politics and bitch to earn theirs. Sully's pride come from accomplishing all he does without sucking a single dick or kissing an ass. The belt doesn't make the guy wearing it a champion, the guy wearing the belt makes it a championship. That doesn't happen with guys like Goliath but Sully had no choice but to play ball. He'd be fired if he didn't. He already won the belt once, he could surely win it again no matter how long he would have to toil on the mid card.

Sully made his way to the entrance tunnel. He could hear Goliath's music playing over the arena PA. The ring announcer spoke up over it.

"Introducing first, the challenger. Weighing in tonight at 275 lbs, he hails from Detroit, Michigan, he is Goliath Gruesome!"

The jeers rung out from the eager fans. Sully stood, trying to get a hold of himself. He couldn't go out there upset. For his character, he had to go out there cool and confident. 'Brand New God' by Danzig came on over the loud speakers and that was his cue. It was show time.

"Making his way to the ring, weighing in tonight at 245 lbs, he hails from Elkhart, Indiana. He is the Championship Wrestling Coalition Heavyweight Champion, he is Dangerous Maximus!"

The roar of the crowd shook the Pensacola Civic Center as soon as the announcer uttered his name. Sully stomped down the entrance way. Fans were falling over the security railings to try and touch him. Sully could only keep his gaze on Goliath. Goliath grinned as his ebony flesh glistened under the lights. Sully gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. Tonight, Goliath would

own a victory over him.

Sully had his eyes locked on Goliath and didn't notice Deadly D racing down the entrance way behind him. Deadly D rushed in like Emmet Smith and planted a fist into the back of Sully's head. Before Sully could face his assailant, Deadly D drove a knee deep into his gut. Sully felt all of the air leave him and then had his face smashed into the side of the ring. Jacob Patrick wasn't

too far behind as he strolled down to the ring. The fans barked loudly as Pat ordered D to put Sully in the ring.

The beating continued as Deadly D and Goliath stomped a mud hole into Sully. Goliath torethe title belt off of Sully and began whipping him with it. Pat grabbed the microphone from the ring announcer and ordered Deadly D to hold up the battered Sully. Pat pulled a dog chain out of his pocket and carefully wrapped it around his fist. Pat held the mic up to his lips,"You're

wondering what all this is for, aren't you? Well, I have to make sure that you play ball."

Pat pulled his loaded fist back and struck it across Sully's cranium. He hit the floor and was soon wearing a crimson mask. Pat waved the pain off of his fist. The three of them stood over Sully laughing. Every fan was out of their seat and screaming but they all thought this was part of the show. They didn't know that it was all very real. Sully laid on the floor a man betrayed

and disgraced.

Pat and Deadly D slid out of the ring. Pat had Deadly fetch him a chair so he could have a front row seat for the downfall of Dangerous Maximus. Pat ordered the bell to be rung and for the referee to conduct the match. Sully could only see bright lights and blood when he opened his eyes. He felt the weight of Goliath come down on him with a big splash. Goliath had his leg

hooked for the pin. The ref got down to make the count.

1...2...

All Sully had to do was stay down for a second longer and his night would be over. Jacob Patrick would have no further need to torture him but that would be doing him a favor. Sully got his shoulder up before the ref could count 3 and make Goliath Gruesome the new champ. He was going to be the pimple on Pat's ass. So they wanted a real fight, Sully thought, that's all they had to ask for. Pat, Goliath and Deadly D were stunned by this resiliency.

"Well, don't just look all surprised. Pulverize him!" Pat shouted.

Goliath picked Sully up by the back of the neck and clubbed him with his fists. Goliath had Sully set up for his finisher, a gut wrench power bomb but Sully gave him a head butt right in the baby makers. Goliath yelped and fell to his knees. Sully took off into the ropes for momentum and drove his boot into Goliath's jaw.

"Goddammit! Paul, take care of this asshole," Pat was steaming from the ears.

Deadly D wasn't about to go in the ring without an advantage. He pulled up the ring apron and pulled out a steel chair from underneath. Deadly D stormed the ring with chair in hand and took a swing at Sully. Sully ducked out of the way and gave him a kick to the gut. Deadly D became prone from the blow and allowed himself to be disarmed. Sully took the chair andplastered it over his head. Deadly D would be watching the birdie fly around his head for the rest of the night.

Sully doesn't catch a break after subduing one of his adversaries. Goliath is back on him and lifts him up into a bear hug. Goliath had the strength of Atlas holding up the world as he ground Sully's spine into beef stew with the hold. Sully made a move of desperation and thumbed Goliath in the eye. The hold was broken and Goliath fled around the ring blinded as Sully leaned

up in the corner to catch some rest. Goliath began to gain his vision back and saw Sully standing nicely in the corner. Goliath looked like a bull after a matador as he charged toward Sully in a spearing motion.

Sully could see the bull coming and he flung himself out of the way in time. Goliath couldn't ease up on his momentum. He went in between the turnbuckles and his shoulder collided into the ring post. Goliath retreated back, nursing a tender shoulder and Sully hit him with a neck breaker.

Sully saw the opportunity to go to the top rope. He looked out into the crowd and they were screaming for Dangerous Maximus to finish him. More importantly, Sully saw Pat steaming like a tea kettle. Sully ascended to the top rope and took his leap of fate. The move was framed perfectly and Sully executed the guillotine leg drop. He went for the pin fall but didn't hear the sound of the ref slapping the canvas. Sully looked up to see the ref paralyzed with fear. The ref didn't want to anger the champ but he didn't want to anger his boss.

"You can always find a new job but if you don't count, you'll need a good doctor to rearrange your face," Sully gave the ultimatum.

The threat worked as the ref got down to his knees.

1...2....

The three didn't come. Sully couldn't believe he was going to have to mutilate this guy.

When he got up for an explanation the ref was not present in the ring. Pat had dragged him out of the ring and struck him in the head with the dog chain. Sully stood in the ring and looked down at his newly acquainted nemesis.

"You're not going to be my champ," Pat exclaimed.

Sully searched around and found the title belt. He held it high above his head in defiance.

"If you want to strip me of the gold, you'll have to do it yourself."

Pat couldn't believe how far Sully was willing to go to hold onto the strap. Sully waited for Pat to meet his challenge but every advancement that Pat made to climb in was followed by a moment of hesitation. Sully waited in the ring like a dog waiting for a biscuit. He didn't notice Goliath getting back to his feet. Goliath came from behind and plowed an elbow into Sully's

neck.

Suddenly, Pat had all the courage in the world to get in the ring. Sully went down after the blow and Pat took the opportunity to get a few cheap shots in. Pat then had Goliath bring Sully to his feet and hold him in place. Pat picked up the belt and shoved it into Sully's face.

"This is what you've thrown a big fuss over. Something that isn't even yours. You wanted to live by it so badly so you will die by it." Pat went to concuss Sully with the title but he didn't hit his mark. Sully twisted his way out of Goliath's grasp and left him to take the hit. The hit left the CWC logo on the belt embedded into Goliath's forehead. Goliath fell to the floor for along nap and Pat stood in shock. Pat's mummified state left him vulnerable to get something that was a long time coming. He could feel Sully's hot breath on the back of his neck. Pat made an attempt to flee but Sully had him by the collar of his shirt. Pat was spun around and met nothing but fist. His horn rimmed glasses were snapped in two and his nose could very well have been punched back into his brain.

Sully looked over all the carnage. He very well knew that his career at the CWC was over but the future doesn't matter when you're lost in the present. The fans were chanting his name. He had proven that he was the top dog whether or not he had a golden strap to wear. Just like in Ancient Rome, he had beaten and slashed his way through adversaries to earn his glory. Deadly

D, Goliath Gruesome, Jacob Patrick and the fans knew that Dangerous Maximus could not be beaten.