Blue Man Group

A fellow comic wrote his e-mail list about some non-comedy related gig in Time Square that would pay $450 for four partial days of work. Due to a desire to make some easy, quick coin, I followed his link to sign up.

Though the coin was quick, I wouldn't say it was easy (I shoulda been scared when the ad said, "We will supply the jumpsuit")

The job was to, wearing the aforementioned jumpsuit (blue, with "Hyundai" splashed on it), "clean" Times Square. I put "clean" in quotes as we were given brooms, feather dusters, squeegies, and portable vacuums and were told to clean the air in groups of six. Basically, pretend we were cleaning. Thanksfully, I didn't run into anyone I knew, which is more than I can say for an acting teacher I was working with, who ran into a student of his (ouch!).

Try pretending to vacuum the air for five hours...not as much fun as you'd think. It gets old after about five minutes. Especially on the corners where the sun was beating down on us (We spent as much time on corners in the shade, waiting until the next group came by to kick us to the next one)

After cleaning it on one corner, we'd move onto the next, much to the amusement of passing tourists (less to the amusement of passing locals). My favorite responses from tourists were....

1 - While standing at a corner and pretending to dust the air, I smiled at an older Irish guy, also waiting. He looked at what I was doing and asked, "What are ya, stupid?"

2 - This guy asks me to keep doing what I was doing (brooming the air) while he called over his six or seven year old son. The father pointed at me and said, "This is what happens when you dont go to college."

I coulda explained to them that I did graduate college and make a decent living, and how I was only doing this to make extra cash for an apartment that my wife and I are saving up to buy (in the year 2037), but I figured, eh, let him have his life lesson. Actually, it woulda been great if I just told them, "Actually, I did go to college."

Funny he mentioned college though, as the job kinda made me think of my dad. He didn't go to college, and spent his life doing crappy jobs to provide for his family. I often think about what it must have been like for him, doing something I know he disliked for a living, but needed to do.

For one weekend, I walked in his shoes.

Harris

A Harris Bloom Thanksgiving

When we went around the table to say what we're thankful for, my mom asked, "Can I say what I'm sad about?"

Good grief Harris Bloom.

Harris

I Am Killing My Wife's Dreams

When Josie quit smoking two years ago, she ran a half-marathon six months later...a sort of challenge, mixed with a celebration of her healthier lungs and lifestyle.

She'd decided to do it again this year, running in a half marathon at the beginning of May. The training has been a lot tougher, she says, in part due to having me at home.

Two years ago, she was single and had no one waiting at home for her so she didn't mind spending more time at the gym. So it's my fault.

It may also be due to the pizza and garlic knots we get every time we pass Cheesy Pizza on our way home from, well, anywhere.

harris

Mom

Josie and I went to Jersey to visit her folks.

Hearing that, my mom asked me, several times in fact, to make sure I got the pictures of me that she had loaned to them for the wedding.

Her folks gave them back to us, and made sure to tell us that they are all there. They know because mom had written the number of pictures given on the envelope.

Rock On,

Aitch

Hancock

We were just watching a commercial for Hancock when Josie asked, "What's he supposed to be, like a superhero?"

"Well, he did just throw a whale."

Rock On,

Aitch

Where My White People At?

I did a show last night deep in the heart of Brooklyn, at a retaurant/bar called The 5 Spot, just a few blocks from Bed-Sty. It was the second show I'd ever done in an "urban" room. The first one I did as a newbie, and was an unmitigated disaster.

I walked 15 blocks from the C train to the bar, during which I called my mom...here's a snippet of that conversation...

(It's 9:00 and we're 5 minutes into conversation)
Mom - So, where are you?
Me - Walking to a club.
Mom - Oh, you have a show?
Me - Yeah
Mom - Where, at the Gotham?
Me - No, this place in Brooklyn.
Mom - (after ten seconds of silence) - Oh, Harris, at this time at night, you're walking through Brooklyn?
Me - (looking up) Why me?!?

(Edit: This morning, my mom called me to make sure I got home)

ANYWAY, I got there.

Not sayin' the place was scary, but whenever the MC took the stage, she brought her purse with her.

When the show started at 9:30, there wasn't any audience, just comics, which was fine with me.... bombing in front of comics wouldn't bother me as much. People did slowly filter in, and by the time I went on (4th), there were about 25 audience members.

The first comic, Becky Ciletti, really funny, but she has this thing where she asks the audience questions before each bit, like, "You guys have jobs?" or "You guys date?" and then goes into her jokes about said topics - Normally, it's really funny...but when the crowd is all black, it sounded vaguely racist, which was funny in itself.

Admittedly, I was nervous (never a good thing as the audience can smell that).

Before going up, buddy and soon-to-be-famous comic, Josh Homer, who went up after me, gave me some advice, "You just gotta have confidence... and energy."

The odd thing was that two of the three comics before me were white too. It gave me a perfect opening joke..."This show's the opposite of an NBA game... the crowd's black but the performers are white." Got a good laugh, and I was off....

All in all, I did okay, most of my jokes got a decent chuckle from at least one person (prolly comics), and more importantly, I did it in an urban room, which shows my confidence level has grown.

Of course, I'll know I'm really good when I don't say things like, "...and more importantly, I did it in an urban room, which shows my confidence level has grown."

Rock On,

Aitch

p.s. thanks for the ride to the train Josh!

NWA was Right

I was on the platform waiting for the subway at Columbus Circle this AM, when I was suddenly surrounded by three cops. Since my only escape was to jump onto the tracks, I chose to stand there with a terrified look on my face.
"Are you okay, sir?" The apparent leader asked.
"Ummm, yeah, why?"
"One of the other passengers said they saw you talking to yourself."
"Ooooh, "I laughed, "I'm a comic. I was just working on a new bit."
Unimpressed, the leader asked in a way-too-serious manner, "Where do you perform, sir?"
"All over, Gotham, New York Comedy Club."
"Where is Gotham?" He asked in his deadpan way. One of the other cops was smirking, realizing (I think) that this was pretty funny, the other was staring at me like I killed the clerk at a convenience store.
"It's on, ummm, 23rd and 7th."
He stared at me for another second before saying, "Okay, have a good day, sir." With a nod of his head, he and his cohorts were gone.

I thought about volunteering a joke to prove my innocence, but then I worried what would happen if they didn't think I was funny... not only would I be sent to Bellevue, but my confidence as a comic would be shot.

Rock On,

Aitch

I Wish I Were Joking

I walk in the morning and Temp Boy has two more jokes for my act....

Joke Number One - If monkeys love to eat bananas and squirrels like to eat nuts, women love to eat a bandanna while holding two nuts.

(btw - I know that I didn't hear him incorrectly cause he actually typed it out for me).

Joke Number Two - Why did it take the giraffe a week to understand the joke? Give up?....Cause of his long neck.

I made the mistake of saying, "But, their ears are next to their brain... the info wouldn't have to travel through their neck."

Steadily, he answered, "But giraffes listen with their butt."

Mike, who sits between us, asked, "You got it?"

I nodded, and then wrote this post.

Rock On,

Aitch

Why Me?

So The Temp just told me he has a great joke for my act.
"Ok, shoot," I said, as I rolled my eyes towards co-cubicle habitant Mike.
"There is a bathhouse where the changing room is across the street," Temp Boy started. He paused.
"Yeah?" I asked.
Looking at Mike and then me, he responded, "That's it."
Mike and I then looked at each other.
"Is that true?" I asked.
"No, I told you, it was a joke."
Mike explained, "No, it wasn't."

UPDATE: Because he assumed I didn't understand the joke, he drew me a picture. There's a building marked "BATH HOUSE" - a street, with two cars on it - and on the other side, a box, with a sign next to it: CHANGING ROOM.

UPDATE NUMBER TWO: He has a new joke for me...

Q - How many bald guys does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A - Wrong Question.... A bald guy is a lightbulb.

Just freakin' shoot me.

Rock On,

Aitch

Milton

As I may've (or may've not) mentioned, my office moved locations. This morning, Temp Boy asked me if I had his scissors.

"What?"
"My scissors. I put them in one of your boxes when we moved."
"I dunno, dude."
"Did you empty all your boxes?"
"What?!? Yeah, look, why don't you ask Vinny for brand new scissors."
"I will, no big deal."
"I know it's no big deal. It's scissors."
"Okay." And then he slowly walked away.

A few minutes later, he came back to my desk.

"I got scissors from Vinny."

Rock On,

Aitch

Me and My Boss

My Boss: Did Tanner call you with the numbers?

Me: Ummm, yeah.

My Boss: How do they look?

Me: Good...I'll show you after.

My Boss: After what?

Me: After I'm done peeing.


Rock On,

Aitch

Bosco

My office moved from midtown to downtown a few weeks ago. It was done over a weekend, and my boss, nice guy that he is, didn't want me to have to come in unless there was a problem with the move.

When I was about to leave, the Friday of Moving Weekend, he asked me what was the password to get on my computer. I got nervous.

"Why do you need that?" I asked.
"I just want to make sure nothing happened during the move."
"I"m sure it'll be fine, besides, I backed everything up."
"That's good, but I still want to see."
"Well, maybe I'll come in."
"That's crazy," He said, and laughing, added, "Don't worry, I'm not going to look at your files. I dont care what you have on there."
"I'm not really worried about that."
"Okay, then just give it to me."
"Why don't I just come in?"
"What are you afraid of?" He was starting to get suspicious.
"Nothing."
"Then just give it to me. I'm saving you a trip."
"Okay, It's umm, "I", "L", "O", "V","E","J","O","S","I","E."
He snickered. I left.

Rock On,

Aitch

Speaking of Annoying

In bed last night, at about 12:45, Josie started in about her job. Granted, she deals with a lot of nitwits and bureaucracy, but after the week we're having, it prolly wasn't the best time to start a dialogue about her list of grievances.

Good boyfriend that I am, I try to listen, but after about twenty minutes, my eyes start to close. In my haze, I hear this...

"...It's just so annoying. I mean, wait, are you listening to me?" Next thing I know, she's using her thumb and index finger to prop open my eyes. "Hellooo?!?"

"Yeah, I'm listening...you were saying something about someone who is annoying."

Rock On,

Aitch

Our Reputations Preceed Us

When I told my mom that Josie and I are moving in together, she said, "Is this leading to something or is this going to be like the last one?" *

When Josie told her brother that we were moving in together he asked, "Are you pregnant?!?"

When she told her mom (via phone), Josie told me that the line went silent for a good (bad?) fifteen seconds. On the bright side, I hear when she moved on with her "last one" and told her mother, the line went dead for thirty seconds.

So maybe she does like me.

Rock On,

Aitch

* The "last one" and I lived together for two years and then split up.

Don't Leave Home Without It, Indeed

So after having a difficult morning yesterday with Josie (No, I don't wanna talk about it), I took the wrong keys with me to work.

Ouch.

Of course I didn't realize it until I was entering my building. Normally, that wouldn't be such a big deal as I could either go to Josie and get her keys or, if she's to be home soon, just wait for her. The problem was that she was going to visit her family for the night.

Double ouch.

After asking if the management office was open (they have a master key) - they weren't - I panic-called Josie, the only other person with a key, only to find out she was already on the bus to Pennsylania.

Swell.

With no other option, I was about to call a locksmith to break in to my own apartment. There goes another 200 bucks. That's what I paid not three months ago when I locked myself out. I know, I'm an idiot.

Before I called, I thought I'd try picking the lock. Of course I tried that the last time to no avail, but I figured it couldn't hurt.

I pulled out my American Express card, slid it in, tried the door. Nothing. Tried to slide it up and down, kept trying the door when...

Voila!

It opened.

Good to know that if this whole lil comedy thing doesn't work out, I can search for work as a low-level thief.

Rock On,

Aitch

Another Tale from the Front

So my boss was explaining to Mike (guy who sits next to me) something about "comparing those numbers are like comparing apples to oranges."

I interjected, "Why do we use 'apples and oranges' as a simile for opposites? I mean, they're both round, both fruits, both grow on trees...shouldn't it be more like 'apples and carburators?'"

About an hour later, Temp Boy, out of nowhere turned to me and said, "One is hard and one is soft."

"What?"

"Apples and oranges. You were saying how they are same, but I have difference for you."

I turned to Mike whose face was already red from laughing.

Why me?

Rock On,

Aitch

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

Just wanted to share a little tidbit from last night....

I was sposed to meet Deeanna at a bar (Campbell's Apartment) in Grand Central - I arrive early - get my Apple Martini and people watch...

I, seeing a more open spot, move to the other side of the bar - Deeanna arrives, gets a Grey Goose Martini...

We drink, and we're ready for another - since we're at a different spot - hence a diff bartender - than when I ordered my drink, I tell the bartender...
"She'll have another grey goose martini and I'll have an Apple Martini"
"An Apple Martini?"
"Umm, yeah, apple martini." He sniggered and got our drinks.
Deeanna, who's a regular there, said - through tears of laughter - its the first time she ever saw him smile.
I was half-expecting him to come back with my drink with a lil dainty umbrella in it

I'm surprised that never happened to me on a date

btw -

snig-ger 1.n. - a disrespectful laugh
2.v. - laugh quietly

Just so ya'll know, i'm in the midst of writing the tale of my writing class - it's gonna be looooong (like novella size) - dunno how good it'll be but we'll see - here are some excerpts so you don't, don't, don't don't, don't you...forget about me. Like most movies though, these are prolly the only funny parts. Anyway, it'll begin thusly...


Mem-oir n. - 1. An account of the personal experiences of an author. 2. An autobiography. 3. A biography or biographical sketch. 4. Personal essays written by someone who thinks their life is just so damn fascinating that he or she thinks others will want to stop living their own lives to read about the writer’s life.

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I can see me at my book signing in a Barnes and Noble that they would have to close to the general public due to the huge throng of my adoring fans. In fact, extra security would have to be brought in – with stun guns – yes, stun guns after The Incident last week at the Borders in Binghamton signing

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WEEK ONE (I smell trouble...or is it me) – I walked into the classroom a half-hour early to see seven people already seated. I looked in one middle aged woman’s direction and asked loudly enough for all to hear “Is this for genital herpes or all herpes?”
“Excuse me?”
“This support group…is it only for people with genital herpes or for all herpes sufferers?” I asked.
She stammered while looking around for help, “I…think…you’re…in the wrong room. This is a memoir writing class.”
“Oh wait, I’m sorry. Today’s Thursday, isn’t it? Oh wait its Wednesday…silly me. No, I’m in the right place, just had my days mixed up. Sorry.”

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I scanned my thirteen classmates to size them up and immediately realized one thing – I can beat them all up. Sure, there were about seven or eight women in the 30-44 range, three to four in the 45-60 range, two gay men - trust me, they were gay - and one other guy who was about 50, but still, it was the first time I could ever say that in a classroom. If anyone was going to threaten and fleece classmates of their lunch money in this class, it was going to be me.

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I couldn’t help but think I was in the wrong class. I thought of Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin pulling aside her commanding officer to explain that she didn’t sign up for this army – no, she signed up for the other army. I think I was supposed to be in the other memoir writing class, you know, the one with the people who knew basic English

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Take My Mom...Please!

So last Friday semi-evening, I hosted a show at Gotham - mom came, and so did Lynda, chick I'm seeing - after the show, I introduce them, and after telling mom that Lynda writes novels, I make a joke about the type of stuff (chick-lit) Lynda writes...let's listen in, shall we?

Me - Yeah, her last book was called "Women Wear Shoes."

Lynda - It was not!

Mom - So what do you write about, like fashion?

Lynda - Does it look like I write about fashion?

Mom- No! It doesn't!

Me - Good night, everybody! You've been great!

Rock On,

Aitch

The Hits Just Keep On Comin!

So on Saturday at 5 PM, The Comedy Village has an open mic where the comic judged the best gets a spot on their 8:30 PM pro show. Cool, huh? I have never gone before because, well, it's Saturday at 5 PM...not the greatest time to hang out for two hours watching a bunch of open micers. And because if I won, I would have to clear any Saturday night plans for my spot.

Anyway, I went this week because, well, I had nothing better to do.

There were only about 12-13 comics there...none very experienced (I'm being kind). So I won.

It was about 6:30 at the time. What to do till 8:30? Not enough time to go home and go back...so I went to another open mic at a bar that was around the corner. It was just finishing up but I got to go and performed my lil act in front of the four comics that remained. Good times. It was 7 PM.

I got a coffee and strolled around the village, checking my watch every two minutes. Eventually, 8:30 came. I went into the club...watched about two-thirds the show, and then asked the manager when I'm going up. He said in a couple more comics...I was psyched the the crowd was really hot - laughing at everything...so a couple more comics go - I'm checking my watch, getting a lil worried, thinking, hmmm, they're running out of time...eventually, the manager comes up to me...

"Bad news, Mike Epps came in so we don't have time for you tonight. You can either come back tomorrow night or next Saturday night."

Swell.

Dinner with Mom - Part Two

Note - see yesterday for Part One

So we walk the five blocks to One83 - new restaurant on Upper East Side (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have a limo at my beck and call for such occurrences) - there's not many people there (it's 6:30 also) and the waitstaff is beyond attentive - i dunno if its standard there but there were at least three or four people catering to us (I really cant wait till I'm a famous author so I'll have six or seven...one will chew my food for me and feed me like a mother to baby bird)

I'm doin' this in reverse order in terms of timing because I wanna end with The Funniest Moment in The History of Mom Moments.

The Maitre d' was generous enuf to hook us up with a glass of port on the house (he must think I'm a famous writer or something). He brings over the glasses fer us (none fer mom as she doesn't drink) - when he places them on the table, mom noticed that one glass had more in it than the other but she kept the info to herself - oh wait, i'm sorry - SHE TOLD HIM THEY WERE UNEVEN - the poor guy was flustered fer a while blaming the bartender, until I said, "Don't worry about it" - he left...

My girlfriend and I tried our free glasses of uneven port....I made my usual "Moron Wine Connoisseur Face" - as i did it, the maitre d' walked past us as mom said, "If it's making you sick, dont drink it." And with that, my ulcer was that much closer to reality.

For dessert, I got the chocolate fondant cake - another phrasing of the chocolate cake with molten chocolate filling thats becoming as ubiquitous as Chilean Sea Bass on menus - not that i'm complaining - anhoo, mom gets coffee - they were tardy bringing her coffee, I was almost finished with my cake, so mom calls over the maitre d' - "Excuse me, I ordered coffee a while ago... but I dont want it anymore."
The Maitre d' apologized, splaining they were making a new pot or whatever, and the coffee came immediately thereafter - it didn't stop mom from telling me they shouldn't charge us fer the coffee.
"Ummm, mom, they gave us free glasses of port, even if they were uneven."
"Still."

Okay - the main event - here we go...

We get to tawkin' about mom's hair...mom splains how she thinks its too thick in the back and not tapered...just cut in a square - My girlfriend splains how she purposely did it that way because it'll look much better as it grows in, and she wont have to get it cut as often (or something like that...I was busy noticing that the average age of the patrons in the restaurant was 103) - so mom sez...
- are you ready?

"I see...so it's gotta look bad now so it'll look good later"

THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT EVERBODY - MOM'LL BE HERE ONE NIGHT ONLY - PLEASE, AS ALWAYS, TIP YOUR WAITRESSES!!!

Rock On,

Aitch