"Send lawyers, guns and money, the shit has hit the fan!" – Warren Zevon
The office is all a flutter this morning. Things have gone about as far south as they can. (Save for ice skating with Satan, but even as I look over, he's lacing them up…)
Such is the curse of the Canadian comedian. The day job, while being necessary, has a tendency to come with their own steaming heap of problems.
I'm starting to itch for the road. This is rarely a good sign. Long drives, other comics shit, bad food, terrible service (because I'm little more than a living karaoke machine, and the comic before me was a dick…), not to mention time away from the homestead makes the prospects less than gleeful. Much like t he day job though, it's a necessary evil.
I need to get my sorry ass out there for an extended period. Playing the clubs is a lot of fun, but I have shit I need to hash out, and nothing works better than the road for that. (Some would argue differently, but this is what works for me.) Bouncing stuff off of cagey, less than appreciative audiences tends to temper material. The more battle tested the better. Once you stroll into a club with shiny new shit, you feel like a God.
Anyhoo… More to come soon.
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