In December of 2007, I embarked on my journey as a stand-up comedian by entering a contest for $25. I told only a select group of people and brought only Kelly, because I needed at least one person to work the video camera. It so happened that I won that contest, which earned me $100 and a weekend worth of emcee gigs at the Funny Bone in the Kentucky part of Cincinnati (people who live there know what I mean). I could have cared less about the money, as I was well on the road to becoming a world-famous stand-up comic and that amount of money would be pocket change to me by October of 2010. In fact, I kept that money, with the intention to one day put it in a frame next to my double platinum comedy albums “The Last Refuge of the Incompetent” and “If Pigs Could Cry.”
It is now October of 2010 and all I can say now is that I know better. I have now quit my comedy career twice and certainly don’t expect to be world-famous ever. I have grown sour of the business while a steady job and fiancée have taken my focus away from busting my ass for that 0.01% chance of getting noticed (a story for a different day). Earlier today, I still had that $100 stowed away with the grade sheets from that first contest. It was in the form of five $20 bills. Well, the washer and dryer in our apartment complex only takes cash and I didn’t feel like going all the way across the street to the ATM only to pay an additional $4.50 for the transaction. So I decided, with mixed emotions, to finally delve into my victory stash. I vow to always keep one of those $20 bills just in case, but right now, one of those bills is responsible for the drying cycle of the clothes I will wear until my next laundry day.
So if you see me out in the next two weeks, I’d like you to do me a favor. Please compliment me on how dry my clothes are, as I’ve used my dreams to dry them. That may ease the hurt and make all the bullshit seem worthwhile. Thank you.