The Adnostic

Dear Short Asian Comic,

I am sure that you are a very funny guy. There is no way that you can perform at the Largo and be in the same line-up as Louis CK, Sarah Silverman, and Patton Oswalt and not, at least at some point in time be considered funny. Unfortunately, last night you were marginally funny. Sure, you got some laughs, but for that room on that night, you clearly bombed and the whole room knew it.

Now, when you are having an off night, I would heed this advice - this is not the time to start hitting on the girl in the front row while you are on stage in the middle of your set. It is awkward. When you ask (in front of the whole room) if she is here with anyone and she desperately reaches for her friend sitting on the other side of the table and audibly pleads for help, change the subject. Change the subject immediately. This is a clear signal that your very public attention is not welcome.

You didn't bring your A Game that night. I understand. It's okay. Just please don't make it my problem and drag me into your personal 10 minutes of Hell.

I'm Just Saying,

An Innocent Victim

A friend gave me tickets to the Brian Jonestown Massacre last night for my birthday, so I took my friend Kimi to the Vanguard for a little rock and roll. I invited her mostly because JDate Guy couldn't go, but also because she's my favorite +1.

The venue was relatively new (read - I have never been there before and I drove right past it the first time) and clean and spacious with fuzzy walls. We arrived around 9, missing Innaway, but just in time for Quarter After.

Quarter After was good. Nothing particularly special, but solid song writing and musicianship. Their last song dragged a bit, but it was their last song, you have to let stuff like that slide on a last song.

Then it was time for BJM. FUCKING MUSICIANS!!! Do your fucking JOB! Just because you have a reputation for being an eccentric artist does not mean that you should dick your fans around while you're on stage waiting for the heroin to kick in.

In response to this disaster which I had absolutely no patience for, I have developed a new set of rules. I put a lot of thought into these so listen up and listen well:

1) There should not be a one hour wait in between you and the band that played before you. Get your skinny addicted ass on stage!

2) I know you consider yourself a tortured artist and all, but an instrumental should only last 5 to 10 minutes. TWENTY minutes is TOO LONG!!!

3) I should not have to wait another 10 minutes for you to start your next song while your band mates play the opening measure over and over again like a pack of autistic children. I should not have to watch you saunter around the stage smoking your weed, cracking open a beer, and handing out water bottles. You're a singer right? SING.

I would have more rules, but I was so fed up I left. Kimi, bless her, understood my frustration and said that I would need to experience a good acid trip for something like that to be considered tollerable. That's the kind of advice you get from people who were raised by hipies.

Hey, at least it was free. Thanks Brett and Jodi!

I hate moving. I really, really, really hate moving. But, I despise commuting, so moving it is and may Craig's List be my faithful guide.

If I were just looking for a place to live, it would be easy. All I would have to do is find a reasonably priced, well maintained vintage apartment close to where I work; but I want to save money on rent and put it towards a horse of my very own, so I'm looking for a roommate too and that makes it all the more complicated. I have to find someone I can enjoy living with for at least a few years and that's tough because I'm not the kind of person that can get along with just anybody.

So I looked at eight places in the last three days and I'm about to look at two more tonight, and from this limited sample size I have made the following conclusions:
A) The apartment is amazing, but the roommate is annoying, needy, and will not shut the hell up or it isn't available until August.
B) The roommates are amazing, but the room is the size of a shoebox.

I'm trying to keep my focus on the roommates because I can deal with a small room, but there's no way I can handle an annoying roommate. Then again, I have to remind myself that I don't have to settle. I've already paid for July's rent at my current place, Jen isn't in any hurry to find my replacement, and I'm finally in a position that I can actually afford something nice.

Patience is a virtue that does not come naturally to me, but I think I better make myself a quick study or end up with a place I hate or a roommate I want nothing to do with.

People who baby-talk to their unfixed Chihuahuas need not apply.

How did I manage to be on a phone call with someone in Philadelphia and somehow get both another phone call and a text message all at once?

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a conspiracy to prey on my hatred of call-waiting.