That was the creepiest performance of "Goober Peas" since I did it on @parksandrecnbc. I tip my hat, @mrmattwalsh @VeepHBO
"Fucking comedians." Did you have to hurt my heart, @VeepHBO? And then make me laugh my own heart out of my ass? #iloveyou
In less than 4 HOURS @Stormof69 takes the stage at @LargoLosAngeles. Some tickets left, I think. Where will YOU be?
Account got hacked. Just fixed it. Although, this weight loss secret is BLISS. No more fear, no hate... http://t.co/RrGxmJTrRP
I lost so much weight with this secret trick! http://t.co/d70MkMJuIt

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Fri, Sep 24


COMEDIANS OF COMEDY SHOOTING DIARY: AN HOUR OF GRACE

@ 12:00 AM

   

I'm staying at maybe one of the most barebones, plastic-cups-and-rough-towels motels in Eugene, and yet they STILL have wireless internet that blankets the premises like the caramel murmurs of a Capri whore. I'm writing, photographing, and sending this from the "veranda" (three wrought-iron picnic tables near the second floor snack machines) an hour before tonight's show.

I've got my feet up on a bizarre lion's head fountain which serves no purpose except to fool me into thinking I'm making the most of the eastern Oregon "magic hour". I'm two pony shots into a bottle of single malt, 15 year-old Balvenie (in-cask date: August 18th, 1988—exactly ONE month after I started stand-up comedy) and almost finished with Gary Giddins' un-put-downable critical biography of Louis Armstrong.

I don't own any Armstrong records. I'm not a fan of jazz. But one chapter into this fucker, and I want to hear everything Dippermouth every recorded. I'm chasing the Balvenie with generic "Classic Selection" spring water.

Beauty and happiness can mug you in an Olive Garden restaurant, I'm starting to realize.


 
 
   
   
   
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