Haunted Houses and All You Can Eat Fish Tacos

Haven't been on the blog for awhile so I figured it was about time for an update. I submitted my application into Roosevelt University. Should be hearing back from them soon enough. Comedy game has been good to me. I went on the road for the first time this past weekend and boy was it a blast.

JC asked me about 3 weeks ago if I wanted to join him in De land to do some guest spots for a show he was headlining. Only a fool at my level would turn down such an opportunity. It was the chance to perform in an actual comedy club rather than the usual bars and student auditoriums I perform. We loaded up the car and made way.

Before we left JC's apartment I was informed that the place we were staying at was haunted. The club owner didn't put his comics up in a hotel. Instead he put them up in the house his grandparents had lived and died in. Another comic had stayed in the house and woke up form a nap on the couch to find the rocking chair going by itself in the middle of the room. This wigged him out enough to grab all his things and get the hell out of there. He left his fellow comic behind who was in the shower at the moment. JC and I tried to find a hotel to stay in but wouldn't spring the $120 to do so. The haunted house was free after all.

We had dinner at this Mexican place called Mi Tierra. They had all you can eat tacos for $8. That's a steal. You also got your choice of fish, shrimp, pork or chicken. I went with the fish because I felt adventurous. This group of thirteen girls walked in with ribbons in their hair and skirts that had hems going over their navels. We wondered if this was natural for De land or was some kind of theme. Then thirteen guys dressed as greasers walked in and it was confirmed that De land was trapped in the 50's. I payed the bill after downing five fish tacos and it was off the the club.

The room was great and people showed up ready to laugh. There was also free beer for the comics. Fish tacos and beer! Life was awesome. It was a shame we couldn't get anyone good to be in the emcee spot. This guy named Clayton handled the honors instead. After several minutes of meandering nonsense it was my time but Clayton blanked on my name. He had to pull out his piece of paper and read my name aloud. Luckily the crowd and I got along splendidly off the bat. I poured out seven minutes of material and it was amazing. They were eating up my punchlines like candy. I felt like the ring leader of a circus. I walked off the stage swishing around fish tacos and beer in my belly. The crowd had made me impervious to my evident illness that night.

JC murdered his headlining set. People walked up to compliment him afterwards and a few even stopped to tell me they loved me. Especially one woman who asked if I had any merchandise. I'll come prepared next time, Miss D. I don't want to let you down. Some audience members invited us out to a bar. They payed for all our drinks and they were great to kick it with. I took a moment for myself and realized that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I had found myself.

Later, JC and I got back to the house at three in the morning completely hammered. We were on the way to our respective rooms when we noticed to rocking chair was moving. We each swore to the other that we hadn't touched it. Then the bath water turned on by itself. It was decided that we would sleep in the same room that night for protection. We went to move his mattress into my room when the door slammed shut behind us. JC screamed like a lady and it took a few attempts to open the door up. We passed out in my room and somehow survived until morning.

So what does it mean to be a road comic? To me it means haunted houses and all you can eat fish tacos. I recommend you all try it sometime. It beats the shit out of backpacking through Europe.

"That's the one thing that trumps religion... capitalism."

Recommend This Blog

Hello to all my cyber neighbors out there. It's a new week and I'm feeling fresh. The roof in one of the rooms in my house has started collapsing. Luckily, it is a room only seldom used for parties so it doesn't interfere with everyday life. Ironically, I was in there once the thing started cracking. I was a foot away from having a couple feet of plaster cave on my head. Here I am to blog another day.

Graduate school is a common option for people at my age who are in my situation. Last year I applied to graduate school at FSU but failed to get in. Unfortunately, I was going FSU or bust so that's why I'm still in Gainesville only working twenty hours a week. My father has begun nagging me; or as he likes to call it encouraging me to apply again. I have every intention to do so. I'm just naturally conditioned to wait until the last minute to do these sort of things. I did sort of apply to the University of Florida on a whim. That plan worked so why wouldn't I expect it to again?

Well, apparently graduate school is a whole lot harder to get into. It is more competitive and there are fewer spots. The admissions boards also really want you to impress them with letters of recommendation, writing samples and a personal statement of what you hope to accomplish. Frankly, it is all quite exhausting for me. Nonetheless, I've got to get it done in order to get my father off my back and so that he'll start fully supporting me again. There are a few things holding me back though.

First, it's these letters of recommendation. I've got one professor who will write very nice things about me, (Thank you, Prof. Burt.) but some of these schools want three people to write very nice things about me. This has me seeking out professors in hopes that they'll remember and praise my genius of two years ago in Italian Cinema. (Please email me back Prof. Watt!) I got one professor who flat out refused to write for me. A simple NO would have done but he decided to make a long basketball metaphor about how not every college athlete makes it to the pros because they find they're not as capable. I had a hard time following it because I'm more of a baseball fan but I picked out that he was telling me I sucked at learning. Please email me if you work for an accredited university. I could use the letter of recommendation. Tell them how much you love the blog.

The second thing is the writing sample I'm suppose to provide. My hard drive got fucked by some hard ice tea (unintentionally sexy way to phrase it) about a month ago so every term paper I've ever written is gone. I managed to recover a few from email accounts but they are not the length I need them to be. I guess I could elaborate on one but I'm having I hard time figuring out what my point was in the paper. I may be forced to write a term paper from scratch without receiving college credit. This is by far the worst thing to have happened to me but this is your gain, readers. Leave me a comment with your suggestion as to what my thesis should be. Or comment on notes about how the id, ego and superego are depicted in the film Klute. I need you guys to come through.

I can't wait for this to be over with. It definitely makes me believe I should've handled myself differently in college. I should've been impressing more professors and saving my A papers on an external hard drive. At least I'll remember all this for when I go to apply for my doctorate. Then, I may start making a base salary of $34,000. Round of CiCi's on me when that happens. I promise.

“Don't you get it? You're a rat in a maze.”

The Path

Que Paso my blog buddies? Back in the saddle today. Some good things and bad things since my last entry. I no longer have a place to perform Friday nights as Jeff's Deli closed. So that's one less show. Although, we did score back Monday nights at Gator City so that's cool. I had my headlining set at 1982 a few nights ago and it went amazing. I always had good material but it has taken me awhile to become a true performer. I'm figuring it out and I only see rewards from doing so. Also, I got to meet Doug Benson last night and he laughed at something I said. Three cheers for me! Now let's see what ails me today.

I think I'm destined to be more of a pitch man rather than a writer. Writing jokes is simple for me. Those are stories that conclude just over a minuter after starting them. Trying to write some feature length seems to be a challenge. I'm even talking in regards to a short story. I've come up with at least three or four different story ideas that my friends have said are interesting but I still haven't written a single sentence of any of them.

Writing is the one thing I want to do with the rest of my life. Other than booking wrestling promotions and owning a baseball club. Yet writing is the most difficult thing for me to start doing. It reminds me of something Hemmingway said. He said, “The hardest part of writing is to sit your ass in the chair and start typing.” Goddamn was he write. My writing process goes a little some thing this.

1. Open a new Word document.

2. Check facebook.

3. Read wrestling forums.

4. Write two sentences I end up hating.

5. Play online Risk for 4 hours.

6. Vow to write the damned story tomorrow instead.

It took me awhile just to write a new blog entry. This would've been written two hours ago if I hadn't decided to look at pornography instead.

Once I get the ball rolling though I'm set. I start acting like some kind of painter who has an image trapped in his brain and frantically strokes his brush against various canvases until he sees something that matches what is in his head. The writing process is a pain in the ass but it is very rewarding for me. I'm none the more prouder than when I go back to read a story I wrote a few years ago and I laugh out loud to myself or find something profound. Writing has presented with the path I want to remain on for the rest of my life. It is only a matter of finding it and staying on it.

“And so, thunder strikes lightning.”

Never Taken Alive

Hi out there. It's your man that stays true with a blue attitude. Today I had big plans of sleeping in and I'm proud to say mission accomplished. You all know that I liked to refer to myself as Paul Brawl. Well, it's a brand new year and I'm dropping the Brawl. That's right. Paul Laier is leading the way into a new decade and the results are showing. I have a different mentality going up on stage now just being introduced as Paul Laier. It has made me feel more comfortable inside my skin. Why did I do that? While Paul Brawl is still very much a part of me, he is no longer part of who I want to be. Simple as that. Let's get to today's topic.

I'm a male in my late twenties. I suffer from a condition where I think that I'm invincible. This is true of all young men. I remember visiting the Grand Canyon once and our tour guide told us of two young hikers who thought they could walk all around the park instead of catching one of the provided buses, despite not having any water on them. Arizona in the summer time is like hanging out in a frying pan. Those guys suffered from heat stroke and dehydration.

It's easy to call them idiots but I know I'm guilty of the same thing. I've driven myself home a few times when I was intoxicated. I know that one of these days it will catch up to me. Until then it's my laugh to live and I'll live it how I want.

It doesn't always have to catch up to you though. That's what I learned last night. A friend of mine had a heart attack. He had to be rushed to the hospital and have open heart surgery performed on him immediately. My friend is only 26. Only four fucking years older than me. My dad is twice his age and has never had a heart attack. That's frightening to think about. Upon hearing the news, it put my own mortality into question. I began to think about all the chimichangas and pizza I ate this week. How often I spend just sitting on my ass.

My room mate and I started to plan out a diet plan and an exercise regiment. Instead of steak it would be carrots for dinner. Instead of playing online Risk we would do Pilates. Most importantly, no more fried chicken dinners at 2 in the morning.

This morning I received word that my friend is alright. He had successful surgery. He seems like the luckiest guy in the world to me. I would consider myself to be if it were me. Exactly what do I do with this new found respect for the gift of life? I certainly treat it better. That doesn't mean operating out of the fear of death though. You could be the most health conscious prick in the world and still get hit by a bus just the same.

I guess what I'll do is make sure each day is spent accomplishing self-fulfillment. Whether it is writing, performing, enriching the lives of others or appreciating a nice day outside. We can't be invincible but we must still remain brave.

“The law is the law, and heck if I'm gonna break it. But if you can forgive someone... Well, that's the tough part. What can we forgive?”

To All My Friends

Hey there my fellow blogosphere inhabitants. I hope 2011 is off to a hot start already. I know it has been bitter sweet for me so far. Sweet because I've been increasing my creative production as well as taking a better attitude toward my job and my stand up work. Bitter because my girlfriend of two years moved back home to Boca Raton just yesterday and I'm already missing her like crazy. It's forcing me to be more extroverted though. I'm making plans with friends and reaching out to others I don't talk to as often anymore. I have a tendency to surround myself with people whenever I feel even the faintest hint of depression in me.

Like I've said already, I've been in a long distance relationship before. That one lasted about eight months and it ended ugly. I lot of that had to do with the fact we had only known each other for a month going into the LDR and the reason for the LDR was we were going to separate colleges. We were both adjusting to a new social scene while simultaneously getting to know each other. So I've had a stigma towards LDRs as a result.

It's different this time. I already know my girlfriend better than I've known any woman. Now I feel a lot like a widower. I sit around my house thinking about all the things I use to do with my girlfriend. I'm trying to pick up new hobbies to fill up the void. This has so far included starting a second blog about movies (which you ought to check out: themovielaier.tumblr.com) and playing online RISK (I'm always down for a match. Give me a call). I assume my lifestyle will now entail going to the movies and going out to dinner by myself. Perhaps I'll just carry around a picture of my girlfriend; telling the hostess that she is my dead wife and today is our wedding anniversary. That's sure to get me a table by the piano player and a complimentary bread basket.

Yes. I'm throwing myself a pity party right now. Yes. I know this is far from being the end of the world. It's not as if she actually died. I know that I will be fine. I write this because very rarely do we tell the people we love most these sort of things when they're still around. I want to let everyone who has every given me a smile that I am forever grateful. To all my friends, family and the women I've dated; I'm thankful to each and everyone of you. Now that I'm done being a weepy bag of pus I'll probably write that joke about my dad feeling up my mom in the hotel room when he thought I was sleeping. Share the love, folks.

“My life is full because I know I am loved.”