Storytelling

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My Stand Up Comedy Routine: Stupid Job Interview Answers

I secretly want to be a stand up comic.  Seriously.

For the past month and a half, my full time job has been looking for a full time job.  Thanks to instant streaming via Netflix (via Wii), I’ve been subconsciously overloading myself with stand up comedy.  In the past week alone, I’ve made it through the first 40 of 240 episodes available for the ongoing series Comedy Central Presents.  And last week, my wife and I spent Friday night seeing a couple of stand up comics who oddly decided to make Fort Payne, AL part of their tour at a restaurant called The Smokin’ Moose.  By now, I’ve got myself convinced that my alter-ego should be a stand up comic.  I believe I could pull it off.

Like a stand up comic, I am constantly noting awkward and weird social situations, I love communicating and relating with people, and most importantly, I am just enough narcissistic to draw in an audience when I want to.  So recently I began writing my stand up comedy routine, in my head.  But because of my narcissistic ways, I am sharing what I’ve come up with so far.  Since delivery is a very important of actually being funny, note that for the duration of this post, when you see a set of ellipses points (like this…), that symbolizes the short and necessary pause for the audience to have a chance to laugh.

Announcer: Ladies and gentleman, will you please give a warm welcome to Nick Shell!

[applause]

“Alright, thanks everybody.  So, predictably, I watch a lot of stand up, and something I always think is funny is when the comedian walks out on the stage and the first thing he says is, ‘How are ya’ll doin’ tonight, everybody?!’ Because as an audience member of any congregation, whether it’s a Dave Matthews Band concert, an Easter sunrise church service… a community college graduation… or especially watching stand up comedy, my answer to that question is always, ‘Well, I don’t know yet.  I just got here.  But I’m not all happy and excited because you’re implying that I should be…”

It’s like when an adult says to a kid, ‘Are you enjoying your first week of 2nd grade?’, as the adult shakes their head ‘yes’, pressuring the child to only answer in agreement…

So, Mr. Comedian/Leader Singer of a Rock Band/Key Note Speaker at a Sales Conference in Cleveland, Ohio… I will only have a good time if I decide I want to, thank you very much…  But again, more importantly, I don’t know yet if I’m having a good time, typically when I’m asked that question.  You know, shouldn’t that be a question you’re asked near the end of event?…  Or everyone in the audience could fill out a secret ballot on a scale of 1 to 10 how good of a time they had… And they’re all emailed the results the next day… [spoken in a nerdy voice] ‘73% of the people had a good time, based on the fact they marked a 7 or higher…’

Or maybe, I’m misunderstanding the question all together.  Maybe whether or not I am in that moment having a good time is based on the events leading up to showing up to the event.  Like, before I got there, I went to Applebees and I ordered the Zesty Western Burger, without bacon because I only eat kosher, and the waiter forgot, and brought the burger to me with bacon… But because to me the combination of complaining and eating doesn’t make for an appetizing meal, I just quietly scrape the bacon off the burger with my knife which I never use.  And even though the burger is really good, I still have slightly bothered by the fact that the ‘essence of bacon’ is implemented onto the beef patty…

And then I got to the event, I had to pay 5 bucks to parking, which isn’t a lot of money, but it’s how much I could have payed for an overpriced beer there but I still buy an overpriced beer anyway- even though it’s a struggle to spend that much money on one bottle of beer when I only paid 7 dollars for a six-pack of Blue Moon which is sitting in my fridge right now…

So, am I having a good time?  You tell me…

I just recently had to find a new job when I moved from Nashville.  Has anybody else recently had to go in for a job interview?

[acknowledge the first person that says yes]

I love the stock questions they ask you.  I bet you 20 minutes before you show up, they’re like, ‘Ah, crap!  I have to interview that guy today!” And then they hurry up and Google ‘what to ask a person in a job interview’.  So they ask these seemingly intimidating questions that they themselves don’t know even what the ideal answer is supposed to be…

Like, ‘So, where do you see yourself in 5 years?’

I should be like, “Uh… alive, working here, answering questions I can’t answer about my future… pretending to having slightly impressive psychic abilities… though I didn’t realize that was part of the job description…”

And this question, “What would you say your strengths are?

‘Well… Let me tell you… I am awesome!  I bench press 350 pounds…  I cut out the floorboard of my car and just rock it Fred Flintstone style… Whenever I see a phonebook I’m always tempted to rip it in half… Which I can totally do right now if you want me to, especially if it will get me this job…’

A little bit about me- I’m not into a sports, probably because the only sport I’m good at is Corn Hole; and that just sounds horrible.  Oh yeah, and I can solve the Rubik’s Cube in less than 5 minutes every time.  So at best, I consider myself a sports agnostic. My college degree is in English, only because at 20 years old I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I was really good at BS-ing… so, clearly, a degree in English was the way to go.

So in review, I’m not good at sports, I don’t eat pork or shellfish, I look like a cross between Paul Rudd, David Schwimmer who played Ross on Friends, and brothers Ben Savage who played Corey Matthews on Boy Meets World and Fred Savage who played Kevin Arnold on The Wonder Years , plus I’m an entertainer… Ladies and gentleman, by default, that makes me… a Jew…

That’s right- a Jew from Alabama… You don’t see those every day, do ya?

No, honestly, it’s not all that much of a stretch.  Everyone’s got that one person in their family who is the official Family Tree Climber… You know, the only person who goes through the trouble to research the family’s ancestors and heritage. Really, they could tell the family anything and the family would kind of have to believe it.  So I’m that guy, the Family Tree Climber.  And thanks to an Ullman, a Wiseman, and a Green, I’ve done the math, and at best, I’m 1/8 Jewish.  That doesn’t really count though, does it?…

That’s like a white dude saying, ‘Yeah, I’m Asian. My great-grandfather was half-Cherokee Indian, and since the Native American Indians actually migrated from across the Bering Straight from Mongolia originally, and Mongolians are Asians, that makes me part Asian.  So it’s no coincidence now that I drive a Toyota Camry and love a good sushi roll and dated a half-Korean girl in college, because hey man, it’s all just my true heritage coming out, you know?…’

For what it’s worth, my mom is half Mexican and Italian- that’s the real reason I look so Jewish.  So my grandma is completely Mexican, but like, ‘Mexican’ before it was a racial slur.  You know what I mean?…  She doesn’t speak any Spanish and she was born in Buffalo, New York, so if anything she has a Yankee accent, but not a Mexican one…  What’s really funny though is until last year, she lived in a trailer park.

Back in the ’80’s, she was surrounded by rednecks: Camaro’s with t-tops all around, Lynyrd Skynyrd playing loudly, empty cans of Bud Light scattered along the gravel parking lot.  But by the late ’90’s, the ‘New Mexicans’ started replacing them.  I remember my grandma telling my sister and me, “I almost called the cops last week, those Mexicans killed another goat right outside my window again, then cooked it over a fire for dinner…”  I was tempted to say to her, “Uh, Grandma, you’re 100% Mexican.  You’re technically one of them.  If your parents hadn’t moved from Mexico to New York in the 1930’s, I would have grown up eating your goat meat quesadillas with fried pig ears on the side.”  But I didn’t. That’s my Mexican grandma.

Alright everyone, I got to get out of here- my time’s up.  Actually, I’m not leaving. I’m just exiting the stage.  Yeah, it’s kind of awkward, because the table where I’m sitting is right next to the bathroom… So guys that I have to pee really bad right now, I guess I’ll be seeing you in minutes when you walk towards me then immediately dart for the bathroom door pretending not to see me.

This had been fun, yeah?  See you next time.”

 

 

2 Comments Posted on Nostalgia, People, Storytelling, Uncategorized

dad from day one: Mommy’s Little Monster

Week 8.

The weekend after we found out we were having a baby, we spent 45 bucks on “cute clothes” for Jack at a Carter’s outlet.  One of the outfits purchased that day says, “Mommy’s Little Monster”.  I have a feeling that this monster-themed attire was designed with the idea in mind of “oh, he’s such a messy little boy… he’s always gettin’ into everything…” .  But for me, I look at this whole “boys are little monsters” as a literal thing: Boys are actually a wonderful representation of what classic monsters are in my mind.

So far, having a baby boy has totally met all my expectations as far as his lack of politeness (passing gas while people hold him for the first time) and becoming the baby version of an angry, drunk, and ranting Jack Nicholson the moment he realizes he’s hungry and we didn’t already have a bottle ready for him right that second.  Not to mention the percentage of milk that comes out of his mouth as opposed to the amount that goes in and stays in.  But I once was (and in a sense, always will be) a boy.  Baby Jack is indeed a friendly, little beast.  He really sounds and acts like a literal monster.

My dad Jack and my son Jack

When he’s sleeping, he often makes this “ghurr, ghurr” sound.  And sometimes instead, the noise sounds more like the Smoke Monster from Lost.  It doesn’t help that he can’t actually speak yet.  How could I not be reminded of a monster when I see a little baby (but big for his age… he looks like he should be six months old) flailing his arms around during pretty much all of his waking hours who makes noises like that scary beast thing (R.O.U.S.) on The Princess Bride? He’s a monster all right.  But a loveable one.

Jack is a little bit like the TV version of The Incredible Hulk mixed with Jabba the Hut and a Mongolian warrior. But the most adorable and cuddly version you could imagine.  I love having my own little monster around the house.  I will teach him everything I know.  And that, friends, is the truly scary part about this whole “monster” thing.

The picture above was taken by Joe Hendricks Photography:

Blog- www.photojoeblog.com

Website- www.joehendricks.com

In case you don’t know what the Smoke Monster from Lost sounds like, click on this minute-long video clip:

 

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dad from day one: Handshakes and Footprints

Week 8.

Yesterday on Jack’s 8 week “birthday”, we inked his hand and foot for keepsakes. As you can see in the picture above, it took more than one try.  I realize that I’m putting myself in danger of sounding like a Hallmark card or an oversensitive dad who would cry on a reality TV show, but I see a lot of symbolism in this tradition of preserving the glorified silhouettes of our baby’s hands and feet.  Jack’s handprint symbolizes all the peoples’ hands he will shake when meets them, from his college roommates to his first real employer to his future father-in-law.  His handprint also represents the music he will play on his guitar (it’s inevitable that he will be a musician like me).  Who will he meet?  What will he write?  Or build? Or create?

Jack’s footprint obviously symbolizes the places he will go. Where will he go to college and where will he live? And also, meta-phorically, like Dr. Seuss’s final book in 1990, Oh, The Places You’ll Go!, in the big picture sense, where will his life go? Which exceptional events will take place in his life?  Which things about Jack’s life will be unique compared to every other person who has ever lived? Where will he step where no one has ever stepped before, both literally and symbolically?

In our house, these hand-prints and footprints are more than just a traditional keepsake. They also tell a story.  A story that has already been written, just waiting for the time to be told.  Oh, the places he’ll go!

Notice the cloth diapers?  More on that in the near future…

2 Comments Posted on Storytelling, Uncategorized, Writing

The Blogger’s Ego: The Necessary Narcissism of Writers, Actors, Musicians, and “Performers”

Is the stereotype true that bloggers are a bit narcissistic?  Well, not always.  It’s just true about the ones who are good at what they do.

If you go to Google right now and type in “bloggers are”, the first four phrases that pop up are “…not journalists”, “losers”, “annoying”, and “narcissists”.  Add to that, recently my arch nemesis/frenemy Ben Wilder (who within the past few months declined an invite to publicly wrestle me on YouTube) posted on my facebook wall, “Do you ever post status updates that aren’t blog posts? Seems like your ‘friends’ probably would like to be considered more than a number.”  (Actually, the links show up on my wall, but are not my status updates.)

That’s ironic for two obvious reasons: 1) He also has his own blog named Out of the Wildnerness which feeds into his facebook wall as well, and 2) The reason I don’t often post status updates other than links to my newest posts here on Scenic Route Snapshots is because these posts are my status updates.  To additionally regularly write status updates would, in my mind, truly put me in danger of being narcissistic.

According to Wikipedia, “Narcissism is the personality trait of egotism, vanity, conceit, or simple selfishness.”  Why do some see that word as an accurate way to describe bloggers?  Like actors and musicians (which unsurprisingly I’ve had my fair share of experience being both), a person who blogs, by the very nature of their hobby/career, must be wired to be “overaware” of their own life and their surroundings.  Socrates is one of the Greek philosophers credited for saying, “Know thyself”.  As for bloggers (along with actors and musicians), perhaps our motto is “Really, really, really know thyself and make sure everyone else does too”.  We have to; in order to be good at what we do so that our audience will find us intriguing, entertaining, believable, and simply relatable.  I can joke about myself being a tad narcissistic, but ultimately, contrasted against mainstream society, am I truly any more self-involved than the millions of other people on Twitter and facebook?

Would I make such an effort to write if I didn’t know that 600 to 1,000 people would be reading it everyday?  Yes, because I started with zero. Would I still write if I knew for a fact that no one at all would be reading it?  Of course not. Otherwise I would just write in a journal and hide it under my bed.  I’m the kind of person that has to have an audience in order to continue doing what I do.

And that is the reason why, that if we bloggers are perceived to be narcissistic, we are still encouraged to continue blogging.  Because despite some cartoonish criticism about our egos, we have an audience whose very presence tells us they appreciate and relate to our writing.  Our writing is based on our lives and essentially, our writing is our lives; though that sounds grammatically incorrect. Actually, bloggers are very similar to stand-up comics, only we are more like sit-down comics.

We assess the quirky situations and patterns around us and share those observations with an audience who hopefully will relate.  Good stand-up comics are funny and humorous in more of a “laugh out loud” kind of way.  Good bloggers are interesting and intriguing; but when they are funny, it’s more of a subtle “laugh quietly to self” kind of way.  Either way, the material that we sit-down comics and stand-up comics write is based on our actual lives.

By blog readers clicking on our websites, they are essentially saying, “Here we are now, entertain us.” Who are we as blog writers to say no?   Even at the risk of being perceived as arrogant and self-centered; at least we have an excuse.

Do I personally think that I am narcissistic as a writer?  Compared to an Amish writer, sure.  But I do believe in the importance of balance in life.  I am very aware of my faults and shortcomings and I’m easily willing to admit them (especially as it makes great writing material); therefore, it’s okay to be very aware of what I am good at.  It doesn’t help that in virtually every post I embed it with several links to things I previously wrote.  Or that I have a “Featured In” page which lets everyone know where I am received the slightest amount of credibility.

We’re obviously living in the age of reality TV as we find much entertainment value in the lives of seemingly normal and “nonfamous” people. Sure, I specialize in writing about the department of “self”.  But the way I look at it, that means that readers are inclined to want to read about “self”.  They find enough of “themselves” in “myself” to relate.  It doesn’t have to be a “selfish” thing to “know thyself”.

So is the stereotype true that bloggers are a bit narcissistic? It took me 832 words to answer that question, so you tell me.

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Breeding: The Unromantic Word for Falling in Love and Starting a Family

And the strong (obnoxious, boring, weird, weak, normal, overachieving, nerdy, cool, self-destructive, righteous, intelligent…) survive.

I am fascinated by Animal Planet. It’s impossible not to learn something cool after watching even 15 minutes of that channel. A few weeks ago I saw a special about the mating rituals of rams. The female ram stays at the top of a rocky mountain and all of her “gentleman callers” begin the climb from the bottom. Each of them attempts to be the first to get to the top of the mountain while fighting off (sometimes to death) the other pursuers. Whichever ram proves he is the best protector and provider during this process and proves himself best to care for the she-ram. All in the name of mating. The she-ram will be taken care of by the best possible male and breed with the strongest and healthiest.

From a romantic perspective, we humans fall in love and spend the rest of our lives with the one person we can’t imagine living without, eventually having children with them as an extension of that love. But from a scientific and psychological perspective, we subconsciously choose the person who is most like ourselves yet with enough necessary opposing complimentary traits for a healthy and balanced relationship. I used to have a hard time understanding how women who find themselves in an abusive relationship finally leave it, only to end up with another abusive man. Or how the rudest, most obnoxious jerk of a guy can end up marrying a woman who seems completely normal.

I get it now, though. The match to an abuser is an enabler. The match to a chaotic person is often a someone who needs to control chaos or be controlled by it. Then they have babies and pass along those same extreme virtues to them and the cycle repeats.

Similarly the same thing happens for the rest of us, who are not abusers, enablers, or drama kings and queens. Without realizing it we find, meet, fall in love with, and start a family with the person who is best qualified to pass on our shared attitudes, values, interests, and weird quirks. I married the woman who was best qualified to make it through the tough times and big decisions with me, as well as be the best companion to just simply hang out with when nothing is really going on. Even though it’s strangely unAmerican, we’re not big sports fans. Sometimes I like to remind my wife how lucky she is that she never has to worry about me wanting to watch “the big game” while something is on TV that she wants to see. And we share a fanatical Kosher diet which sets us apart when we order at restaurants: To the waiter at Macaroni Grille, “Do the meatballs here have pork in them?” But we’re cool with it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve given a couple of examples of shared quirks between my wife and I, and believe me, there are plenty more. Obviously, every couple has their own quirks within their shared culture between the two of them and they also eventually pass along to their children. Looking past all romantic elements, we humans subconsciously now how to breed our own kind.  We don’t want to see our own version of reality and normalcy become extinct.  So in essence, that’s where babies come really from:

Our strengths, our weaknesses, our quirks.  And the cycle repeats.

For the more sensitive and romantic version of “breeding”, check out my “dad from day one” series.  (I deemed this particular post too much of a black sheep for it, so I made it a spin-off instead.)