So it’s my birthday on Sunday. People have come up with ways they want me to spend it. My brother wanted me to go visit him in Boston, he is my twin, I probably should. Another friend wanted me to spend the day on the lake, another wanted me to have a birthday party in the office. This year and from every year here on out I’m going to do what I want to do. So I’ve decided that I’m going to do a set of stand up at my favorite place, Rumpy’s Tavern, then dance the night away and the next day go see my brother.
The thing is that I always have these grandiose ideas for myself. I was hoping that by the end of this week I could have a whole new set of material that I could perform on Sunday. I really just need to sit down and write, like what I’m doing now. But I have to start forcing myself to write again. I just listened to my last set and I’ve got some good stuff in there. So maybe I’ll add some birthday jokes in there and call it a day. The real problem is that I keep getting myself distracted, listening to podcasts or comedy albums, checking Facebook etc. Maybe I should just get a pencil and some paper and write the good ole fashioned way.
Funny thing is that when I think about birthdays I only think about the bad ones. I think about the day my older brother stole the car, the night of my birthday, and then drove it to California (from Long Island). I think about the customers yelling at me on my birthday. I think about being alone on my birthday. The only happy birthday that I remember is my 21st birthday, which strangely, happened at the same place that I’m doing my stand up on Sunday. I guess I need to think and write about that. See, I was turning 21, so my friends decided it would be fun to get me a stripper, so they did. Only problem is, the stripper got into a car accident, so a belly dancer showed up instead. I should have known then that I was bi-sexual or what must people think of it as, confused. Thing is that if you tell people you are bi-sexual then they just think you can’t make up your mind. And if a woman is bi-sexual than it’s hot if a guy is bi-sexual than it’s just weird. Truth is that I shouldn’t have to make a decision, right? And what’s even more messed up is that people think it’s a choice. Why would I choose to be different? Why would I choose to be called fag, queer, weirdo?
Ok so you see what I did there? I went off on a tangent, and I know there is some funny material in there, I just have to flush it out. I may or may not use any of it but if I just let my brain go, usually I can find something funny. Anyway, thanks for listening to my rant. If you want to see it in person come out to Rumpy’s Tavern this week at 8pm for some stand up!
