Dan Bialek vs. America: Houseguest Paul

Houseguest Paul: Better Than A Pit Bull

Going on the road kind of sucks. Not only do I miss my girlfriend, our house and my cat and fish, but I also don’t like leaving them alone in for weeks at a time not knowing if something bad is going to happen to them because I’m not there.

On this leg of the tour I came up with a solution to this problem. Well, sort of.

My friend Paul is an out-of-work actor/security guard who also happens to be a weapons specialist and gun enthusiast. He was in between places to stay right before I left for Oklahoma two weeks ago, so I decided to offer him discounted rent on our exercise room for the duration of my trip as long as he promised to feed my pets, watch our house during the day and help my girlfriend with a few household chores.

I also asked that Paul use his digital camera to send me little video progress reports every few days to let me know how things were going.

Here are the first batch of them . Enjoy.


Part 1 – Meet Paul



Part 2 – Welcome To Paul’s Crib



Part 3 – Urine & Coyotes



Part 4 – Tai Chi Sunrise

Dan Bialek is a comedian and writer who is currently doing an independent national standup comedy tour. He can be reached through his website www.danvsamerica.com. The website houses a huge free arcade that has weekly high score contests in which you can win fabulous prizes such as a plastic masturbating monkey or some of the Starbucks coffee beans that Dan’s mother is constantly unloading on him.

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Ask Amber: Alcoholism, White Women, and Nude Photos

Hello Eyeballs!

I have no time to do whatever I think I'm supposed to do in this first sentence. I just wanna get to the questions!

Boozy Blues from Houston, TX wrote in!

Dear Amber Tozer,

I've noticed that in both your column and your blog, "Public Bravado," you talk about quitting drinking. Do you think you are an alcoholic? Any advice for a guy who's in love with an alcoholic? I've been with the same girl for two years and she's out of control. We are both miserable. She has promised to stop drinking, but she hasn't,
it's gotten worse. Should I break up with her? I know most of your advice is crazy, but please take this one a little seriously...if that's possible.

Regards,
Dude with the Boozy Blues

Dude with the Boozy Blues, thanks for writing in. I don't think I'm an alcoholic, I KNOW I am.

I'm going to take your question as serious as ballsack, asshole and booby cancer.


Alcoholism is a lot like the "private part" cancer trifecta and treatment is necessary for survival. The tricky thing is, the only one who can treat your girlfriend is - your girlfriend. Alcoholism is like masturbation, the only one that can conquer it is
the person involved.

Crap. I'll be back in five minutes.

(Five minutes later)

K, I'm back. This question hit me hard. I felt like drinking and/or rubbing one out. I decided to cum all over the place - it's cheaper, I'll remember it and it's a good upper arm workout.

Anybooze...

If your girlfriend is an alcoholic and she wants to stop drinking, she'll probably have to hit her "bottom" (this always sounds dirty in a British way to me). Yeah, she's going to have to go through drunken hell, meet the devil, and run like she's on fire toward a new way of life.

I don't want to get all medical and shit in this post, but I will for second, so you'll get a better understanding of what she's going through. Alcoholism is a disease of the mind (something is missing upstairs) and alcohol acts as a cure (so we think)– fears fade, confidence is born and there is some sort of "connectedness" that
happens. But, eventually alcohol begins to have the OPPOSITE effect on the alcoholic and things can get uglier than Betty and/or your mother (LOL! J/K! HAHAHA! HEEEHEEE!)

Over time, the body actually develops an allergy to booze. This allergy is the uncontrollable urge to drink even when the person doesn't want too. This overwhelming craving leads to the first drink, and the many, many drinks that usually follow. The alcoholic will often wake up baffled and say something like, "I wasn't gonna drink last night. I can't believe I got so wasted. Why are there burrito beans in my ear
and why am I in bunk bed?! Who's on the top bunk? Bunk is a weird word!"

Things are gonna have to get worse for your girlfriend before she'll want to stop. Maybe she'll start coming home with traffic cones on her head or up her butt. Maybe she'll stab an elephant to death and/or she might crap on your face when you least expect it. OR, maybe she'll get the elephant to crap on your face while you're sleeping then stab it to death. FYI, if this happens, she won't want to talk about the dead elephant in the room in the morning, so you shouldn't mention it (even
though you will be dying to know where the elephant came from.)

All I'm saying is let the crazy unfold if you can handle it. Don't nag, make threats or yell at her. She'll manipulate you into thinking that everything is your fault.

I dated a non-drinker for a few years and one night he told me "Amber, your drinking isn't cute anymore."

In my shitfaced state of mind I said, "I don't think anything or anyone is cuter than me. I mean...Emanuel Lewis was pretty cute as Webster, but he doesn't suck your
dick every night. I do, and it's adorable."

See - I made it seem like I was the cutest thing ever and he wasn't mad at me after I sucked his wang until his eyeballs almost popped out of his head. Oh, and let's not forget how I referenced a small black child from the 80's to confuse the situation even more. Us boozers know how to spin a situation!

My point is, Alcoholism is a son-of-a-fuckin-dickhole bitch, whether you have it or not. It ruins lives. Boozy Blues, if you think your girlfriend is worth it - stick around and see if she's willing to get help (you might get a few blow jobs out of it).

If she's a crap girlfriend, dump that boozey-twat. It might help her sober up in the
long run.

Cheers!

Peace,
Amber

Moving on. Here's a question from Troy, he's from somewhere in the U.S.A.

Dear Ms. Tozer...or is it Mrs?

A couple of weeks ago, the Pennsylvania Democratic electorate was made up of 47% white women, higher than any other race/gender subgroup. Clinton ended up winning by more than 30 points, 66%-34%; in Ohio, she won this group, 67%-31%.

I gotta ask, what's up with the white women? Do you think they are afraid of having a black man in office?

Thanks for considering my question.

Troy (btw I'm African American)

Thanks for writing in, Troy. I wish your name was Webster. My name is Amber, Ms. Tozer if you're nasty. If you are not nasty, leave me alone. OMG, we have so much in common already. I just tried to spoof Janet Jackson's song "Nasty," she's black, and you're black. Awesome. We just connected. I hope you caught that with your eyeballs.

I don't know about your question, man. I just see a lot of "%" signs, but I'll try to answer it.

I know of a few white women who are voting for Obama and I know a black guy who's voting for Clinton. I do my research based on my friends, not national statistics.

As far as the polls go, I honestly think white women are excited about the possibility of having a white woman as President. And, I think a lot of black people - like Oprah - are excited that a black man might bring home da title (that wasn't meant to be racist).

Those of us who have our eyeballs wide open leave out gender and race, and vote based
on who has the coolest campaign slogan. I'm just happy that my black and white television has brought out the true colors of all presidential candidates.

Oh, and I think it's hilarious that you think white women might be "afraid" to have a black man in office. A lot of black men assume that us white chicks are afraid of you. WE AREN'T! The only things white chicks are afraid of are gaining weight, getting a DUI, and sharks.

That's it. When I see a black man, I get super horny and hopeful.

BOOM.

Next.

Hey Amber,

Love your stuff. Here's a question for ya.

How do you know when it's the right time in a relationship to take nude pictures of you and your partner? When's the right time to post them on the Internet?

Sincerely,
Derek

Hi Derek,

Hmmmm. Nude pictures. I say, after you ejaculate all over your partner (not in the eyeballs), take a few pictures of their naked body. If he/she likes the photo session, then it's the right time to take nude pictures. If they aren't into it, you'll just look like a perverted idiot.

If you both decide to publish your nudey pics on the web, that's when you should realize you are just like every other asshole that's trying to get attention via the Internet.

The End.

Peace,
Amber

Amber Tozer is a stand-up comic/writer living in Los Angeles. Everyone tells her she's adorable, but the only thing she sees when she looks in the mirror are two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. She previously answered questions about German lesbians and Al Qaeda, and questions about pubic hair. You can email your questions to ambertozer@gmail.com or call the hotline at 818-575-6035! Her column runs every other Thursday. Check her out - www.myspace.com/ambertozer.

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Midwestern Nightmares: Sex Chet Chat

As a 5th grade youngster at St. Stephen’s Elementary, it was quite an exciting day when we were told that Father Chet would be coming in to teach the boys the ins and outs of the birds and the bees.

The promise of the usual suspects making crass remarks in an open forum about sex was far more to my liking than an average afternoon of algebra, taught to us by a woman who had a horrible short tight blonde clown curl hairdo and who’s breath reminded us constantly of the dog shit sandwich she must have eaten for lunch.

Let me say first, that growing up Catholic, I’ve known many men of the cloth to be kind, generous, honest, and true believers in the Christian faith who actually chose Jesus Christ over openly sleeping with women or men.

And not all priests are raging homosexuals and/or kiddie ticklers.


Most of us, having already viewed pornography, had a thorough knowledge of at least how the deed was done. I still remember the first XXX feature I sat through with a pillow on my lap. The main character’s name was Dr. Morecock, and he had sex with a woman while wearing a cut-off shirt that exposed his midriff. I couldn’t understand why a man would show their penis to another person, yet choose to cover up their nipples.

As is appropriate to this scenario, I’ll fast forward to the good part, although there are several other fantastic pieces of the story that I don’t remember quite as accurately.

The question was posed to Father Chet as to how large a grown man’s penis would get when erect. Taking a thoughtful pause, Father Chet bluntly answered, “about 11 inches.”

Stifling gut laughs, we got our rulers out so fast I’m surprised someone didn’t lose an eye.

Now, depending on the level of one’s intelligence and exposure to sex, this must have caused several future reactions:

Some of the boys probably look back fondly on this and laugh like I do, accepting of their allotment of developed ding dong.

A few of them probably feel like the description was inappropriate and place blame on it when they whine to their therapists.

But I like to think that there’s at least one stupid, poor, sheltered, bastard out there walking around with a sweetass 9-and-a-half inch cock who’s too ashamed to mention it to anyone, let alone share it with a horny guy or girl who’d appreciate it because he thinks he’s inadequate.

For the record, Father Chet had short, spikey, peroxide blonde club hair, spoke with a thick lisp, and walked with more swooshes than Nike.

I’m not saying this makes him gay. I’d hate to perpetuate a stereotype. I live in a glass house so I don’t own any stones. I just thought a mental picture would be nice.

What made him gay was when it turned out that he was fucking a guy who lived two doors down from my Grandparents.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I’d guess it’s safe to say Father Chet couldn’t resist, who my Grandmother referred to as, “the weirdo guy’s” big and bad 11-inch dick.

Mike Burns is a severely hunky comedian from Saginaw Chicago New York Los Angeles, MI. He recently wrote about life as a gangsta and reminisced about his Colt 45-drinking childhood. You can see more of this dreamboat at myspace.com/mikeburnsmikeburns and read his column here every other Tuesday.

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Some Other Sucker's Parade: You Never Know When You Need A Rifle

Let's play a game. It's called HAVE THE ADDICT DRIVE AROUND THE COMIC.

It's a great game. It's survival-based and can be played in almost any city that has a comedy club or a performance venue. I played a few times recently.

Last week in Texas I was picked up at the airport by a Meth user. He didn't have fingers because he sold them to his friend for more drugs. True story.

He went by the name Freddie Fingers and was waiting for me at the Odessa Midland airport. He had a sign in his teeth that read: "Jay Kris Newman." I assumed that it was me and luckily I was correct.


He was over average height and slender build, but what I noticed right away is that he was sweating like there was a tiny microwave in his pants. I mean, flop sweats. A Smurf could have showered underneath his river of death. A tiny drought-oriented village could have connected a hose to his forehead and ceased all of their prayers for rain.

I shook his palm and he grabbed my guitar and took off in a sprinter's stride towards the car. He couldn't be stealing my instrument because he had a sign. Judging by the correct spelling of the sign, I knew I was already respected in this town, so I just walked slightly faster, but not too concerned.

We were in the truck and he immediately asked if I needed a rifle. I explained that I was going to the Holiday Inn and I thought that I would be okay. He laughed a maniacal shriek and I immediately reconsidered, but stayed quiet.

"You should be fine. You're right next to the car dealers and not much goes on there. I was just trying to get rid of one for some extra loot."

Yes, he said loot.

Now I went out with a girl that used to use Meth and although we only went out once, I will NEVER forget her twitches and her horrible smell. It was the scent of takeover. Some demon had gotten inside her brain and began to pillage her cells and set fires to her skin and teeth. Sad really, but nonetheless unforgettable. Mr. Fingers had her same fragrance.

"Do you smoke pot?" I asked.

"Oh no, I don't touch that shit," he said at a speed that would rival an advancing cheetah.

"How about meth?" I continued.

"Can't lie to ya, hit the pipe twice just before I picked you up."

Perhaps I do need a rifle. I asked if the owner knew of his intake decisions and he said that's who he bought from.

I definitely will need a rifle.

The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch, but it has stayed with me. In fact, this past weekend I was in Miami and I was picked up at the airport by Count Drunkulah. He literally had a Scotch in his lap. I opted to get out of the vehicle and take a cab and I heard from the club later that day that he had fallen asleep and hit a tree and they wanted to make sure that I wasn't in the car with him at the time.

Really? Yes, I was in the car and as soon as it hit the tree I got my stuff and walked 21 miles to the hotel. Don't be silly.

So, let that be a lesson to you, if your dog is going to have unprotected sex and argue with you over fantasy football, then they are probably not going to college.

I love monkeys and Rifles
and the fact that Miley Cyrus is 15
and people are showing sassy naked pics of her on line
She's 15
That's child porn
Why do stars flip the bird to the world
when in fact the best revenge on these fools
who are so tortured with fame is to boycott them
for about a year. stop taking pics of them
going to their movies
that will never happen, but it really could
they are only famous because we allow that
let's have a Hollywood mutiny
You bring the pudding and I'll bring
the cattle prod

haters

j cn

J Chris Newberg is a comic, actor, producer, song writer, and author living in Los Angeles and occasionally Detroit with his loyal and aging Cocker Spaniel, Flower. He has recently written about his run-in with Richie Sambora and vampire romance. You can find him at jchrisnewberg.com, myspace.com/jchrisnewberg, or just google him because you know you want to. His column runs every other Tuesday.

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Forgivable Blackness: Videos Blogged - Riskay

I blogged about this over on my site, and I also wrote about it for my gig over at The Daily Fix. But I think that it merits further study. First, let's get you caught up.



0:00-0:20
As an Isaac Hayes fan, I'm not averse to hearing a long verbal intro to a song. But this one isn't particularly inspired. Run of the mill, Rikki Lake stuff. But, it does set up that you're about to hear another "somebody done somebody wrong song." Also, just hearing a woman berate a man like this just makes me feel sorry for the poor sap who's got to come home to this. You're bringing me down, Riskay.


0:20-0:28
And we're off.

0:36
Again. And again.

O:55
Yes. That is a fat man wearing a Snickers jacket.

1:12
OK, I'm from North Carolina. I'm pretty familiar with country. But I've never heard the phrase "dirty-foot bitches" in my life.

1:31
"Don't fuck hers and try to fuck mine." I don't know if I've ever heard a woman refer to her vagina with that particular pronoun before.

2:15
We get to hear the guy's perspective now. This saves us from having to hear the annoying answer record, "Let Me Dick Yo Smell." He promptly threatens to punch her in the eye. So, he's a fat guy who wears Snickers jackets, enjoys bottle service with strippers, comes home late and threatens to assault his girlfriend. Nice catch you've got there, Riskay. To be fair, she did threaten to shoot him earlier in the song. I'm sure these crazy kids will work it out.

2:53
Ladies. Do not try this at home. If you throw your boyfriend's iPhone off the balcony, you'll be the next thing going over the railing.

3:12
Now she's pouring bleach all over his clothes. That's real close to Left Eye Lopez territory. Kind of a downer end to an upbeat song. It's like when Sharon Stone gets all drugged out and pathetic in Casino. That's usually when I turn it off.

Here I could wax poetic about how this kind of lowest common denominator music is eroding our once-proud Black people from the inside out. Or, I could take the opposite tact and paint Riskay as a profane, feminist genius who's song slaps America in the face and kicks a completely sexist genre right in the balls. Neither of those is even close to being true. The truth is, she's an underground Florida rapper who recorded a silly, catchy song with a shocking lyric. Bounce to this.

Nick Adams is a comedian and author who has recently written about the joke he wrote at his mother's funeral and a letter to the Mayor . For more semi-interesting content, check out NickAdamsWeb.com and read his column here every other Monday.

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Dan Bialek vs. America: 3 Things You Didn't Know

Three Things You Didn't (Have To) Know

Last week I drove from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City, Utah and then on to Pocatello, Idaho for some shows.

Here are three things that I learned from that short journey:


1. Salt Lake City Has Annoying Gothic People Who Will Rob You Of Sleep



2. How To Beat An Idaho Speed Trap



3. Random Facts About Pocatello, Idaho & Two Of Its Citizens



Look who just earned a C+ from the College Of Life this past week.

Next installment, meet the armed, bearded quasi-drifter who I’ve moved in to protect my home, girlfriend and other belongings while I travel the Midwest.

Dan Bialek is a comedian and writer who is currently doing an independent national standup comedy tour. He can be reached through his website www.danvsamerica.com. The website houses a huge free arcade that has weekly high score contests in which you can win fabulous prizes such as a plastic masturbating monkey or some of the Starbucks coffee beans that Dan’s mother is constantly unloading on him.

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Bad Press: Terrorism

A man was arrested when a flight from Hong Kong arrived at LAX yesterday. Said to be “unruly,” several passengers detained him and duct-taped him to his seat for the remainder of the flight.

What happened to the fun in flying? Do I have to go to Ireland if I want to get drunk and rough up a flight attendant at 30,000 feet? Remember when a stewardess brought you a rum and coke and the only tip you needed to give her was a fresh smack on the ass?! I miss the days of “the mile high club” and smoking cigarettes next to babies while spinning a revolver on my index finger all decked out like the old man from KFC!


What bothers me most about terrorism? It’s ruining my in-flight fun! Buzz killers! Do you know how many times I got laid in an airplane bathroom before September 11th? Zero!! Now it’s never going to happen!

If you had sex on an airplane, it was pre-9/11. The only way it’s happening now is if you have the cash to rent three things: a private jet, a nice suit, and a hooker. If you’re like me, you can only afford one of the three. And when your best friend asks you to be the best man in his wedding, you have a tough choice to make.

Paul Myrehaug is the 2007 Great Canadian Laugh Off Champion, beating out thousands of comics from around the world. Whip it Out Comedy discovered Paul at the Vancouver Comedy Festival, and he has recently ranted about the Olympic flame and a police state. You can catch him at www.seadonkey.org and read his column here every other Friday.

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Ask Amber: 101 Asses, Craigslist, and Rape

Hi Dongs!

Wow. I can't believe the questions people are asking me. I'm not sure if I should take the response to this column as a compliment or if I should start drinking again.

Let's get to the questions!

I'll start off with Cammie, a 22-year-old from Port Richey, FL...

Dearest Amber Tozer,

My boyfriend wants to have anal-sex. But I'm worried about how it looks down there. What if it is all hairy and scary?! I've never had it waxed because, well -- I don't want some stranger looking at my ass or vagina for that matter. What should I do?

Thanks,
Cammie



Thanks for writing in, Cammie. Congratulations on having a boyfriend that wants to plug up your back door. Nobody's been interested in stuffing my bung holey-o since '06.

You shouldn't be worried about your butthole, I have a resource that can help you out. My best friend Karey Dornetto is a gluteus maximus hair removing idiot savant. She has an ass shaving empire and has created 101 Ways to Shave Your Ass - it's loads of hair-removing fun.

Check out her site, www.101waystoshave.com, buy her book or a t-shirt for inspiration. You can even have your boyfriend help you shave your butt. My personal favorite is called "At Gunpoint."

Hope this helps! Getting plugged in the ass is as much fun as plugging a friends dongy website (almost).

Ok. Moving on.

Here are a few questions from Andrea, who is new to Los Angeles.

Check it:

Dear Amber,

How can I tell if the guy responding to my Craigslist personal ad is married?

You should ask him something like: Are you married?

Is Craigslist a good way to meet single guys in LA?

No, but I wish you the best of luck. I think Craigslist is a great resource, but I feel like the personal ads are dongy. It's just too easy for weirdos, pervs, psychos and children to post an ad. I think you'd have a better shot at meeting a cool dude in traffic or something. BUT, Craigslist is a great way to sell mattresses illegally, to find a roommate, and to collect ball sweat.

What's the best way to get on tv?

I'm not sure. I haven't really figured that out yet. I can tell you what not to do: Do not fuck people who have an ego the size of Ron Jeremy's dong, do not get drunk every night, and do not eat after midnight. Whoa, a GREMLINS reference – stop the press!

Maybe the best way to get on TV is to kill someone.

This is my first summer in LA. What should I do while I'm here?

Los Angeles is awesome in the summer. You can hike, chill at coffee shops, cut your bangs, and meet people that'll remind you of an Uncle that might touch you. Also, the rehab facilities are top-notch.

I'm sure you'll figure it out, just stay open minded and be sure to ignore the right people. Hope this helps, Andrea. Have a great summer - don't ever change!

Next.

I don't know who sent this next question to me. They had one of those
weird email addresses with a code name, BTK. Wait, I know who this guy is. BIND TORTURE KILL serial killer man!

Whatever. This is what he asked me.

Have you ever been raped?

WHOA, nosy-rosy psycho! Well, to be honest with you - I was almost raped but it didn't really work out. And, I totally was asking for it.

I was like "Hey man, will you rape me?"

Him: What?

Me: You heard what I said. Now rape me.

Him: You want me to rape you? I don't think it would be rape if you WANT it.

Me: Fuck you. No means yes. Rape me.

Him: I've never raped anyone before.

Me: Dude, hold me down against my will and stick it in me, dong-gonnit!

Him: (Get's on top of me and sticks it in) OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

Me: Shut the fuck up.

Him: Sorry. Raping is hard.

Me: Punch me in the neck.

Him: What is wrong with you?

Me: I'll tell you later.

Him: Ok. (Punches me in the neck then walks away)

Me: Way to party.

Him: You are out of your mind.

Me: Ok. Bye.

The End.

At least I got a neck punch out of it. We actually went on a second date and I think I turned him off. I would not shut up about how much my parents loved me as a kid.

Ok, gotta go and eat some Ding-Dongs now.

In my next column I'll answer some questions from Troy, who wants to know about Obama and the Bittergate Scandal and "What's up with white women?"

Peace,
Amber

Amber Tozer is a stand-up comic/writer living in Los Angeles. Everyone tells her she's adorable, but the only thing she sees when she looks in the mirror are two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. She previously answered questions about German lesbians and Al Qaeda, and questions about pubic hair. You can email your questions to ambertozer@gmail.com or call the hotline at 818-575-6035! Her column runs every other Thursday. Check her out - www.myspace.com/ambertozer.

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Midwestern Nightmares: My 5 Favorite Sandwiches

MY 5 FAVORITE SANDWICHES WHICH I WILL NOW UNSUCCESSFULLY TALK ABOUT

1. B.L.T. (generalized version)

If I’m out for lunch at a restaurant serving classic American fare, 95% of the time this is what I’m getting. I don’t want it triple decker, and I DO NOT want turkey on it. On toasted wheat with extra mayo on the side please (Restaurants never put enough mayo on them for my liking).

And if it does come triple decker, I’m not above breaking the sandwich down into several smaller B.L.T.s like a crazy person.


2. Bologna Salad (a.k.a. Chopped Bologna or Sandwich Spread) on Wheat

This is commonly found in Midwestern butcher shops and grocery stores such as Meijer’s (my favorite for pre-made Sandwich Spread). It’s usually made with leftover ham, bologna, and other applicable cold cuts.

I make my homemade version with beef bologna, Miracle Whip, Mayonnaise, dill pickle, and Vidalia onion (when in season) to taste. Spread on cheap, soft honey wheat bread. Serve with Made Rite Chips and Vernor’s Ginger Ale.

3. Cheese Steak

Specifically, from Philly’s Best on Belmont in Chicago. I prefer mine “hoagie style” which includes lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Raw onions, please. And of course, Cheez Wiz.

And before I make a criticism about most Cheese Steak sandwiches, I want to make clear that I understand “hoagie style” is not the traditional way to enjoy the sandwich. That being said, there is no better way to ruin a perfectly good Cheese Steak sandwich than to throw some green peppers on it. I don’t know when the majority of eateries decided that it was the proper way to prepare the sandwich, but they are completely wrong and should be beaten with a belt for the sin.

4. Fried Egg, Big Ron Style

As a kid, when my mother wouldn’t be home to make us supper, there was a good chance my dad would make us egg sandwiches. Fried egg with a broken yolk, not scrambled, with American cheese, mayo, mustard, and lettuce on Spatz toast. To be eaten over the sink.

We call my dad “Big Ron.” Ron isn’t actually his name. It’s Bob. But on a July afternoon as my buddy Fonz and I walked up the driveway, we approached my father in the garage, clad in one of my 3-on-3 basketball tournament t-shirts with the sleeves raggedly cut off, and homemade sweatpant shorts with a pager hanging off the waistband. He was casually doing double forearm curls with a rusted weight set and most likely was listening to Jackson Browne, Johnny Rivers, or Bruce Springsteen.

My buddy Fonz remarked, “Your dad ain’t Bob, that dude is Big Ron. Big Ron’s a baller. Dude’s a baller!”

My dad takes what my sister and I call, “Big Ron bites.” If you’re eating a sandwich in my parents’ house, there’s a good chance my dad will approach you, eyes wide, and say, “Bite?!”

Shortly there after, he’ll hand you back a small fraction of what started out as a sandwich, and with a satisfied, “Mmmph…good,” your snack is gone.

I’m just now realizing that I’ve painted my father as some sort of cross between Kevin Spacey in American Beauty and Dagwood Bumstead, which is way off.

I find this wholly discouraging as a creative writer, and this, combined with the fact that I’ve completely abandoned a simple listing of sandwiches for a semi-detached tangent about the origins of my good dad’s nickname and how he takes chomps is enough for me to pull the plug on what is now a column in shambles.

Aw, fuck it.

5. It’s either an Italian Sub from Jimmy John’s or Liverwurst and Sweet Onion with Mustard on Rye.

And by listing 2 for number 5, I’ve essentially written about 6 sandwiches in a column that is supposed to be about 5 sandwiches, not 6.

Shambles.

Mike Burns is a severely hunky comedian from Saginaw Chicago New York Los Angeles, MI. He recently wrote about life as a gangsta and reminisced about his Colt 45-drinking childhood. You can see more of this dreamboat at myspace.com/mikeburnsmikeburns and read his column here every other Tuesday.

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Ahoy, Champions: Making A List

This is a list of things my sister had to buy for her new condominium, as expressed by my mother:


Forks
Knives
Spoons
A Ladle
Spatula
Colander
Dish towels
Pots and pans
A drying rack
Dish soap
Dishes

"I mean, Kyle, she's got nothing. She's really starting from scratch here."

Shower curtain
Bath mat
Bath soap
Soap dish
Toothbrush holder

"She brought her old toothbrush from home I think."

Blinds and curtains
A dining room table
Dining room chairs
Placemats
Good napkins
A shower curtain (she said this one twice, for effect)
A vacuum
Broom and dustpan
Food
A microwave
Lamps/lighting

There was more, but I stopped listening after a while.

Kyle Kinane is a comedian and member of Blerds who has recently written about his inventions and Hitler . He can be found on Myspace and his column runs every other Friday.

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Nikipedia: Dear EHarmony

Dear Eharmony,

I'd appreciate it if you stopped sending me matches.

I know I signed up for a FREE account and went through your whole "personality profile survey," but it was a weak moment.

There was a banner ad, I was bored, lonely, and boom - suddenly I'm answering a bevy of personal questions that are going to match me based on 29 dimensions. I don't even want a boy with 29 dimensions. Two dimensions would be fine.

Does he drive a Prius? Will he offer me a glass of water after sex?

Great. Send him my way.


At no point did I think I'd find love through your service. That's not why I signed up. I just like taking surveys. And let's be honest, I would never date someone who signed up for Eharmony. And on top of that, I would never date a guy who would be okay with dating a girl who signed up. It's a lose-lose situation.

And no, I have NO desire to be one of those couples on the Eharmony commercials. First off, I don't look good against a white background. Secondly, I don't look good next to an unattractive person.

But I see how people get sucked into it and eventually end up paying. You've been sending very compelling emails that let me know that you've found someone for me. They are always so personal and so excited for me.

"Nikki- we've got a match for you!"

But then you won't let me see a picture because I haven't paid you.

That's not fair. Luckily you give me enough information right off the bat that lets me know I'd only be shelling out thirty bucks for a few pictures of a dude posing shirtless next to his sports car.

It's always the same thing. For some reason you always end up thinking I'd be perfect for some 5'6" Latino clothing designer from Glendale.

And yes, I remember clicking that I didn't care about their ethnicity, but I was feeling really vulnerable and unracist at the time. I didn't want you to judge me. I should have been more honest. I'm sorry.

And don't pretend like the old dude with white hair from Eharmony would be okay with my interracial relationship. He looks like my grandfather. Don't play dumb, Eharms. You don't want me and Jose necking at the dinner table on Thanksgiving.

Oh, and since I'm being honest, I guess I should let you know that I drink more than once a week. Is Skylar, the graphic designer from Bozeman, Montana going to be okay with that? You should let him know I might not be the sober and responsible girl of his dreams. You should also let him know that he's 19! Are you fucking kidding me?! If I wanted them that young, I would have become a high school teacher!

And you can stop sending me Christians. Have you even seen my act?!

Eharmony, I'm sorry to sound bitter. I'm taking out my aggression on you and it's not your fault. You're just trying to help. It's just that this week I came to the conclusion that I'm most likely destined for the romantic fate of a female comic like Roseanne Barr, and I'm not happy about this.

I wonder who's going to be my Tom Arnold....

Maybe Tom Arnold. Is he single?

Love,
Nikki

Nikki Glaser is a stand-up comedian living in Los Angeles who has recently written about her choice to be childless and her love of sleep . Go to www.myspace.com/nikkiglaser for info.

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Love/Hate With Brido: How Nerds Ruined Star Wars and Baseball

How Nerds Ruined Star Wars and Baseball

Today's Love/Hate will cover a different topic: Liking things.

Whatever happened to just 'liking' stuff? It doesn't exist anymore. 'Like' is dead and it was killed by nerds. I'll explain with two examples.

When I was a kid, my favorite movie was Return of the Jedi. I liked it more than I liked any other movie. Fifteen years later, I was in college and the world had
something called the Internet. Things had really changed.

A kid in my dorm asked me if I liked Star Wars. I said I did. He proceeded to show me his tatooo of the Rebel Alliance symbol and his Star Wars edition of Trivial Pursuit.


If you didn't know every obscure character's name and title, or if you've never read any of the Star Wars Expanded Universe fan fiction, you were a chump in the game.

Did you know lightsabers were invented in the year 9990 BBY? That's Before the Battle of Yavin. No? Never heard of the Battle of Yavin either? Well, fuck you. You
don't really 'like' it. Not according to the nerds, anyway.

I'm sorry, nerds. I didn't know that in order to like something, or say something was my 'favorite,' I had to immerse my entire life into it in a way that would
scare people.

COME ON, nerds. I really liked Star Wars! I had the toys. I went and saw it with my Dad. Now nerds convinced me I was undeserving. I know the main characters. I was Yoda for Halloween when I was 4. Do I really have to know the history of the Sith Lords or who was named Grand Master of the Jedi Order after the Conclave of Exis Station?

Star Wars is an easy thing for nerds to ruin. It's sci-fi AND fantasy. It's a marraige of two things very historically popular in the nerd community. But
the next thing ruined for me came as much more of a surprise. It was a sport. That should be kryptonite to a nerd.

But not with baseball.

Growing up my favorite sport was baseball. I had stats and records memorized. But that's the thing about baseball. It has statistics. You know who loves statistics? Nerds!

Nowadays, if you don't have Bill Jame's Baseball Abstract memorized and listen to
hours of sports talk radio every week or frequent your favorite team's message board, you don't have a clue what's going on. I don't want to play Fantasy
Baseball with people who worship Sabermetrics and have acronyms for things like the Player Empirical Comparison and Optimization Test Algorithm.

What happened? Do you have to carry around a TI-83 graphing calculator and a book of formulas to be a baseball fan now? Say it ain't so, baseball. Screw steroids in baseball. Nerds in baseball is the number one thing disenfranchising me.

Mike Bridenstine is a stand-up comedian based out of Los Angeles. He is a member of Blerds.com and quite possibly the funniest person of all time. He recently wrote about his experiences with Eminem fans and his love of England. You can contact him at Myspace.com/MikeBridenstine and read his column here every other Wednesday.

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Dan Bialek vs. America: The Reno Snow Disaster

The Biggest Little City In The World Tries To Kill My Car

The trip to Stockton, Chico and Reno was the first real leg of my tour after we did the first preliminary show in Santa Cruz to see if these shows were even going to be doable.

The drive from Los Angeles to Stockton and then Chico were uneventful and the shows were fun and went pretty smoothly for the most part.

Then we got to Reno and everything fell apart rather quickly.


As I’m typing this, it is 4:23 am on a Tuesday morning and I’ve got to drive 10 hours to Salt Lake City in a few hours. So, I’ll let the short video blogs that I made of the key low-points tell you the rest of the story.

Please be aware that I just finished editing these videos this week, over two months since these events transpired, because all of this was depressing enough to live through the first time. Let alone watch over and over and over in the tiny Premiere Pro 2 preview window.

The Reno Snow Disaster – Intro – Jake Invites No One


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 1 - The Chains Don't Fit


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 2 – The Helpful Nazi Cowboy


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 3 – The Post Neo-Nazi Cowboy Discussion


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 4 - Broken Frozen Windshield


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 5 - Snowbank Car Crash


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 6 - Is That New Sound Good Or Bad?


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 7 - Frozen Feet And Holly’s Not Talking To Me


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 8 - New $14 Shoes A Target


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 9 - So Many Bad Things Happened So Fast


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 10 - Gas Station Damage Assessment


Reno Snow Disaster - Part 11 - Finally Home

Dan Bialek is a comedian and writer who is currently doing an independent national standup comedy tour. He can be reached through his website www.danvsamerica.com. The website houses a huge free arcade that has weekly high score contests in which you can win fabulous prizes such as a plastic masturbating monkey or some of the Starbucks coffee beans that Dan’s mother is constantly unloading on him.

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The Timekiller: A Trip Down Music Video Memory Lane

In the midst of some channel surfing the other day, I came across something remarkable – a channel that showed images put to popular music. I believe they called them, “music videos.”

My buddy told me that once upon a time there was an entire channel dedicated to showing these things and that it was called “Music Television.” He tried to convince me that MTV actually stood for Music Television, but I’m no sucker. If he wants to get an April Fool’s joke like that past me, he’s going to have to do a lot better than trying to convince me that the home of My Super Sweet 16 and Life of Ryan used to play these cool “music video” things.

Anyway...the music videos which I actually did see on television were on FUSE, a network which apparently has a series called Video Yearbook. Each episode features about a dozen videos from a single year. It’s mesmerizing.

The episode that I happened to come across was the Video Yearbook from 1995 and I had an epiphany while watching it – music in 1995 was a mess. Here’s my thoughts about the videos they showed with some clips of those same videos so you can play along at home.


The Video Yearbook kicked off with a pair of “alternative” (I think that’s what they were calling them then) vids including Bush’s “Come Down” and Green Day’s “When I Come Around.”





It reminded me that once upon a time Bush was as big a rock band as there was – and that that time lasted for approximately 3 months. Also worth nothing in the Bush video is the extensive use of a fisheye lens which leads to one obvious question – did Hype Williams steal that style from Bush or did Bush steal that style from Hype Williams? And which is more troubling?

As far as Green Day goes, the video is one of those videos that you’re pretty sure either has a really deep meaning that is impossible to decipher, or it was designed to imply it has a deep meaning to cover the fact that they had no budget to make a proper video.

Shifting gears (one of the best things about Video Yearbook is they play videos from a variety of genres), next up was the classic Tupac-Dr. Dre Thunderdome video for "California Love," which is best known in my mind for the behind the scenes clip of Tupac flashing cash and talking about how he fucked Biggie’s wife (it gets shown in every documentary about the Biggie-Tupac “thing”). I guess this was before the “keep it real” era, because there’s nothing really “thug life” about playing make-believe and dressing up like a sci-fi Mel Gibson. Another amusing thing in this video is the appearance of Chris Tucker, who would now only appear in a music video for a Jackie Chan song I assume.



Speaking of gangsta’s, the only other hip hop (or was it still called rap in 95?) video to make the yearbook was Coolio’s "Gangsta’s Paradise." Talk about not aging well. It’s impossible to take Coolio seriously as a “Gangsta” after you’ve seen him on Celebrity Fear Factor. Side note – whatever happened to the sweet harmonies of LV?



Presenting an alternative to the alternative, Video Yearbook next hits me with “Just” by Radiohead, “1979” by Smashing Pumpkins, and “Hey Man, Nice Shot” by Filter. In turn, I find myself wishing they had shown “Creep” by Radiohead, wishing Billy Corgan wasn’t so creepy looking, and wondering why people insist to me that Filter had a hit song even though I don’t think I ever heard it in 1995 or since then.







Wrapping up the Yearbook was a pair of songs featuring what I assume had to be 1995’s biggest freaks. First, Marilyn Manson goths up a cover of the Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams.” I’m no Manson fan, but you watch the video and it’s easy to see why he had his moment in the sun. I mean, he makes me wanna go shoot up a high school and I’m not even in one.



Luckily, we don’t have to go out on the sour note of a school-shooting joke. That’s because our final video is Michael Jackson’s “Scream.” It features Jacko and his sister Janet in space (for no apparent reason) and throwing matching temper tantrums (for no apparent reason). Much like 1995’s music itself, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but it’s still pretty fun to watch.

Josh Spector is the "mastermind" behind Whip It Out Comedy. His column runs every Monday, assuming he remembers to write it. He has recently written about the state of web comedy and bachelor party surprises. He can be pestered at whipitoutcomedy@yahoo.com.

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Bad Press: San Fran Keeps The Torch Flaming

The Olympic torch made its only American tour stop in San Francisco yesterday.

What was supposed to be a historic event marking the end of a long four-year wait for another fun filled Olympic month of watching woman’s gymnastics on my couch with a case of RedBull and a bottle of Jergens hand lotion, turned sour.

Protesters lined the streets to prevent the torch from making its journey to the scenic waterfront for closing ceremonies. This Whip It Out columnist was confused about what the SF citizens were protesting. The most obvious thing I could think of was the Olympic torch was set to travel down Castro Street. Olympic flame, Castro Street, “flaming” torch, tight jogging pants...you get what I’m driving at here?

That’s right, I thought it was obviously an anti-Cuban protest. I was wrong.


Turns out a few local basin dwellers feel strongly about the struggle between China and Tibet and thought interrupting the Olympic torch relay would help keep the peace between the two nations.

Although I don’t agree with using the Olympics to protest politics, I will say it’s about time we had a little controversy surrounding the games. The world hasn’t seen this much heat with the Olympics since the whole Hitler thing in the 1930’s, and a close second being the German Women’s Weight Lifting Team in the 80’s. You know, the team of girls with the Adam’s apples and the penises?

Enjoy the games fellow gymnastic lovers!

Cheers

Paul Myrehaug is the 2007 Great Canadian Laugh Off Champion, beating out thousands of comics from around the world. Whip it Out Comedy discovered Paul at the Vancouver Comedy Festival, and he has recently ranted about a police state and visited Cuba. You can catch him at www.seadonkey.org and read his column here every other Friday.

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