Andy Sandford Website

I just wrapped up a 14 city, 15 day DIY tour of all indie venues throughout the southeast called “The 3 Headed Moron Tour.” I did it with two of my favorite people/comedians, Dave Stone and Ryan Singer. It was some of the most fun I’ve had doing comedy, and only further solidified my faith in/love for the DIY comedy movement. 

(^Tour poster. Artwork by Dave Kloc)

I want to be clear and say that this isn’t some diatribe bashing comedy clubs. I love doing comedy clubs, and especially the ones that treat comedians right. I don’t believe in any alt vs. club type of bullshit. I will do and have done every type of room. I was in a pretty dark place when I started doing comedy, so honestly I love it all to a certain extent. Even the rough situations can be fun or enlightening, plus I had already hit much lower bottoms in life before I ever did stand up; so the worst is not unbearable to me.

Anyway, I think I love doing DIY tours and indie venues for the same reason that drew me to comedy in the first place: the bare bones aspect of it. In stand up, you are responsible for how good you are. You are the only one up there. You wrote the material. You deliver the material. You get the laughs, and you are the one who bombs. There are other factors outside of your control sometimes, but you know when you could’ve done better (almost always). I think of stand up as the comedy equivalent of freebasing. That bare bones-ness translates to DIY tours. When you book your own tour, you really learn from your mistakes because you feel them (hard). I know for a fact that setting up my own shows at independent venues has made me better at comedy, in both the artistic and business sense. 

(^me at JJ’s Bohemia in Chattanooga)

Artistically speaking, when you are in a non-comedy club setting, you have to learn how to get control of the show and command the audience’s attention. If you are performing at a dive bar and half-ass your way through a set, shit can get out of hand quick. You have to remain present and in the moment: no phoning it in. It doesn’t matter that you just pulled in after driving a bunch of hours and you feel out of it. There’s no choice but to suck it up. In a comedy club, it is understood what the people have come to see. If you bomb at a club, people will think “that comedian isn’t funny.” When you tank at a rock club, people think, “what the fuck is this, and why can’t I play the jukebox?” You have to bring a sense of professionalism while on stage just to make the crowd feel comfortable with listening and laughing. You gotta make them respect the show. Every laugh is earned. Momentum isn’t a given. It builds a different kind of chops all together. Also, the kind of material you’re doing is on you. There’s no excuse for not doing the kind of jokes you want to be doing. There’s no club owner telling you what does or doesn’t fly. You’re free to do whatever you think is best, and you can’t blame anyone else for what you decided to do. 

(^Ryan Singer at Blind Mule in Mobile, AL filling the crowd in on what’s goin on in the streets)

On the business side of things, you learn what it is to “tour.” How to route shit. How to talk to venue owners/bookers/comics producing shows. Understanding your value and how to tactfully negotiate. You become hyper-sensitive to vague language and get better at making sure that whatever deal you’ve worked out is crystal clear. Sometimes, you have to let someone know that they’re fuckin with the wrong bull, and sometimes you’re amazed that people will go out of their way to help you. You also figure out that there’s a difference between what you’re willing to do while emailing from a desk and what you can actually handle doing. It took a few years before I knew when to schedule an off day. As far as building a following goes, I always have more people coming back to see me at indie venues than in clubs in any town that I do regularly. It’s a more memorable experience for them than seeing that week’s headliner at the local comedy club. 

(Dave Stone on stage at Brookland Tavern in Colombia, SC)

I just think there’s no harm in being self sufficient. I have representation, and that can be a big help, but I’ll never have to rely on that completely or be stuck with a manager I don’t like for fear of not having one at all. 

This most recent tour was interesting to me because I got to team up with two comics I have a lot of respect for who are also good friends. They live on the other side of the country from me, so we don’t do many shows together on the regular. We all have gotten used to setting up our own tours where we headline and bring an opener, if possible. It was cool to see and talk to their fans who came to the show because of the last time they came through that town, and the people that came out to see me again were introduced to Ryan and Dave’s comedy. I never had to worry about having to dig out of someone else’s hole, and having to follow them kept me on my game. We were all aware of what material each other was working on and had daily joke machine sessions (our term for “workshop”). We all managed to hammer out some quality new stuff by the end of the tour, and we managed to get more people out than we anticipated. A great experience overall, and it reaffirmed my belief that the future of comedy will only have time for well-run independent shows and the clubs who are doing things the right way. 

(^Show at a yoga studio in St. Petersburg, FL)

Just because DIY stands for do it yourself, and literally anyone can throw together some stuff and call it a “tour,” I would strongly urge comics to not get ahead of where you’re at comedically and setup a poorly thought out “tour” where you’re in over your head skill-wise. You could do a straight door deal just about anywhere and go bomb around the country losing money to look like a bigger deal than you are on fb…but that’s not the best way to go about it, or even a reasonable way. Visit other scenes. Get to know the comics there. When you’re ready to be touring, people will let you know you should be. Don’t be a doofus and try to big time those comics from other places. That’s the first sign of a guy no one wants to deal with.

This was long,

-Andy

When I was new in comedy, I saw Shane Mauss’s tv debut and was blown away. I then sent him a myspace message asking how he went about comedy and what to avoid etc. half expecting him to ignore it. Instead, he answered all my dumb questions very sincerely and didn’t condescend to me or anything. He was a class act, and later on we did some shows together and became friends. My point is, if you are new in comedy and wanted to ask a comic you respect questions, no matter how stupid, make sure you don’t ask me. I am not cool like Shane and I will encourage you to quit comedy all together. There’s only so much money to go around, and I’m tryin ta get ALL of it. Consider this a warning: I have little to lose and will stop at nothing to ruin your career before you ever become a threat. See you on the battlefield, dorks. Do not look me in the eyes.

In 2009, I was one fourth of an ongoing tour called The Beards of Comedy. We were all based in or around Atlanta and chose that name because we all happened to have beards and thought of it as a sort of parody of a hook. We did no material about beards or any beard-centric comedy; we just thought it was a funny name. All that being said, when someone from the NYC Beard and Mustache Championship contacted us and offered to pay us to perform at the annual event in Williamsburg, BK, we were more than happy to take the gig and the money… mostly the money. I was the first of us that had to do a set, which was about three hours into the event. 1,000 people were packed into a capacity 800 venue. Everyone was hammered. I was supposed to do 20 minutes of standup after a bluegrass/rockabilly band, a ZZ Top cover band, and a mustache competition. The MC butchered my intro, paraphrasing whatever BS credits no one would know anyway, and failing to mention that I was a comedian (kind of important). Right off the bat, the 600 people toward the back were completely tuned out or ordering beers. The 400 or so toward the front were still wondering what I was there to do without a costume or an instrument. I told a few quick jokes and finagled some laughs, more or less by way of trickery. Someone realized a few minutes in that I was a comedian and yelled, ‘Tell a joke!’ To which I replied, ‘You remember when I was talking and then I stopped and people laughed?…That was a joke.’ I thought I had won over the crowd, and I was so, so wrong. People were heckling five or ten at a time. I was only five minutes into a 20 minute set. I strapped in and braced myself for 15 minutes of 1,000 people hating me (I couldn’t risk not getting paid). About three more minutes of chaos ensued before the MC walked right up to me and asked, ‘What you wanna do?’ I said, ‘If you’re saying I can bail, then I’ll bail. I just wanna make sure I get paid.’ He said, ‘Let me make an announcement real quick.’ He then informed someone that their car was about to be towed and said to the DJ, “Hey DJ, play that Wilson Phillips song. Andy and I are gonna dance!” I immediately told him, “I’m not a fuckin’ monkey. Not dancin’.” And walked backstage where five or six bands were visibly cringing. A ZZ Top cover band member patted me on the back and said, ‘Fuck em all.’ To this day, that’s the only phrase I use when consoling a comic who just bombed.

Philly Fandy Fandfords: March 18th, I will be dropping truth bombs at Boot & Saddle ($10. 8pm. tix & info: http://www.bootandsaddlephilly.com/event/1064283/)

Boston Fandy’s: March 24th, I’ll be tellin my funny make-em-ups at Davis Square Theatre ($10. 8:30pm. tix and info: http://bit.ly/1R80GAO)

Cable-having Fandfords: April 7th, 10:30pm. My jokes will be broadcasted on Vice’s new show, “Flophouse” on their new channel, VICELAND. Lotta funny ATLien homies on there with me.

Southern Fandy’s: Check this sweet poster to see if the 3 Headed Moron Tour will be in yer town in April. It’s not just me. There’s 2 other funny dummies (Dave Stone and Ryan Singer) 3headedmoron.com

This was only 10 years ago, but it feels like a decade. Back in 2006, I lived in a little house in the little neighborhood of Home Park in the little town of Atlanta, GA. I worked part time delivering sandwiches for Jimmy John’s, but my main source of income was poker. I played cash games every night, and my roommates and I ran a game 4 nights a week, mon-thurs, starting at 7pm and often times ending around 7am the next morning. It wasn’t legally a job, but it was most definitely work. Dealing with degenerate gamblers on a daily basis can be pretty damn daunting. Knowing what drinks and snacks our regular players liked, keeping card mechanics, colluders, and other types of cheaters out of the game, knowing how to deal in a way that didn’t piss off the anal retentive weirdos that underground cash games tend to attract…it was a full time gig. 

Our game was low stakes, relatively speaking. the lowest cash games you’d usually run across were 1-2 games ($1 small blind, $2 dollar big blind, with a $100 minimum buy-in). Most games I played at were 2-5, with a $200 minimum buy-in, and I had played in/knew of several 5-10 games where you couldn’t play without putting up at least a couple grand. Our game was 1-1, with a $60 minimum buy-in. We did this because, at the time, there was a big poker boom and a lot of bars had free poker nights where hoards of graphic designers, restaurant workers, and businessmen played tournaments to win bar tabs an such. We’d go to those bars and recruit players for our game. Most of these people had good jobs and made good money, but were too intimidated by most cash games because of the buy-in. They were also creeped out by the types of characters you find regularly at cash games; people we lovingly referred to as “degens” (short for degenerates). Sounds like a mean nickname, but it’s one of endearment in the poker world. It’s a much nicer nickname than the one given to players recruited from bar poker: free poker donks. 

FYI, “donk” is short for “donkey,” and it’s the last thing you want to be at the poker table next to being a fish. Free poker donks were the type of people who had to let you know that they knew everything to compensate for their insecurity (these people also exist everywhere outside of poker, I’ve noticed). They liked to work out their pot odds out loud and throw a fit when someone sucked out on them to win a big pot, stating percentages and telling people what a bad call they made. This is a dumb way to act in general, but especially around real cash game players. For one, you WANT people making dumb calls. Even if they suck out on you and win a big hand, statistically speaking, you’ll come out ahead over time. Also, Everyone at the table knows about pot odds (method of gauging bet sizes/if a bet is worth calling), it’s pretty easy math. Degenerates play poker every day; they know the game. They will sometimes make a dicey call just because they’re bored and haven’t gotten to play enough hands. If you bitch about how much money they just took from you, they’re only going to laugh in your face. The free poker donks were annoying to have around, but the reason we wanted them at our game was because they were people with money who knew enough about poker to play predictably, get wiped out, whine about it, then buy back in. Some would repeat this cycle for hours before calling it quits. They’d never play a game with a $200 buy-in, but they had no problem rebuying for $60 five times. Another reason we wanted them at the game is the fact that you can only stand so many degens at one table. 

I’ve met enough weirdo degenerate assholes from playing cash games to fill a book that would creep out all the other books on the shelf. Some of the regulars at our game were so oddly fascinating that you didn’t want to know more about them for fear that your head would explode. One guy named Emilio was in his forties, about 400 lbs, ate entire meat lover’s pizzas while playing cards, and demanded that the fridge be stocked with Diet Pepsi. He was always sweating, covered in a mat of thick black hair, and ran “bear night” at Swingin’ Richard’s (a gay strip club, if you hadn’t deduced). He didn’t really converse with people so much as yell at them obnoxiously. On top of all this, he was one of the most degenerate gamblers I had ever seen. One time, he won a poker tournament in Biloxi, walked with 12 grand cash, then blew it all at a dog track on the way home. A fucking dog track. Emilio would play until there was no more money to be won or lost. On several occasions, he would be down $1,000 at 8 in the morning, begging us to keep the game going while his unexplainably attractive boyfriend was on his way over to write us a check for Emilio’s debts. These are the type of people you get to know when you pick cards over college.

One night, it was my turn to deal the game, so I did. We were about 4 hours in, and my friend Sidepot Sammy (real name is Justin btw) pushed all in against a free poker donk. There was a lot of money in the pot, so the tension was thick and everyone was quiet (the only situation to make degens shut up). That silence was then broken when I looked up to see a dude in a ski mask jogging toward me and aiming a 9 millimeter at my head. There was another guy behind him wearing sunglasses and carrying a rifle. A third guy was behind them carrying a trash bag. Ski mask dude went right to me (because I was dealing, I assume), put the gun to my head and yelled, “You know what this is! Everybody strip! Run ya pockets!” 

You learn a lot about yourself when you have a gun to your head. For some reason, a wave of calm came over me that I cannot explain. I mean, i was definitely terrified, and not *just* because of the gun to my head. As soon as ski mask guy started yelling, one of my roommates who wasn’t at the table bolted out the front door. This definitely made the robbers nervous, which wasn’t good for me at all. Also, I immediately knew that these guys didn’t know what they were doing. There are people who rob poker games, and they know that everyone’s money is likely hidden in another room, and certainly not on each individual player. I immediately realized that ski mask guy could get nervy and blow my brains all over the suede couch behind me, then kill the 7 other people at the table because they witnessed it. So I put on my best guidance counselor voice and said, “ok, ok, just calm down and take our money. No one needs to strip or anything.” I felt I needed to throw that last part in because this was not a group of dudes you’d want to see naked. While talking ski mask guy down, I reached in my pocket and pulled out a wad of about 70 ones I had from delivering sandwiches earlier in the day (Jimmy John’s, remember?), then I threw that wad into the robbers’ trash bag and said, “ok, there’s the money.” 

After that, the gunman turned his attention to the players and had them empty their pockets. I was somewhat relieved to no longer have a gun to my head, but also worried someone else would freak out and get shot. I didn’t worry too much about the couple thousand bucks that was in the game because, A: They seemed to think that fat wad of ones was the game money since I was the dealer and they didn’t get a good look at it…also, B: I knew the money was stashed safely in another room, and they’d never find it. 

Just as my anxiety was dropping and it seemed like the robbers would soon be making their getaway, Emilio starts talking back. Ski mask guy was poking his gun in Emilio’s back saying, “hurry the fuck up, fat boy!” and this crazy asshole yells back, “I’m going as fast as I can, and don’t call me fat boy!” This prompted the gunman to try and pistol whip the back of Emilio’s head, but somehow he ducked it (with puzzling agility, I might add). At that point, ski mask guy and trash bag guy rummage through our rooms and left sunglasses to guard us with the rifle. They took my broken laptop and flipped my coffee table over (?). They also got my outdated nextel cell phone. They were frantic at this point and bolted out the back. They neglected to see the new macbook and XBox 360 that were right in front of them, and also never got to the 3 players to my right. 

One of those players, D (the thuggest dude at the table), hit the deck as soon as he saw the first gunman and played dead the whole time. After the robbers left, he popped up and said, “I thought all y’all got WETTED,” which was hilarious to me (maybe ya had to be there). Another one of those players was my buddy Justin (sidepot Sammy), who ran the game with me and neglected to mention that all the money in the game was in his pocket because he hadn’t stashed it yet. They could’ve walked with a few grand if they just asked, but they didn’t. And in true Justin fashion, the moment the robbers left, he pointed out that the guy he pushed all in against was in the process of folding when the robbery started, and then raked the chips in. The other guy was too freaked out to argue. 

In retrospect, thank God for Emilio and his big fat mouth, because we needed the money from the game to reimburse the cell phones and money the robbers took. We then decided a change of scenery was in order and went to a 24 hour diner. At the diner, Justin’s cell phone was blowing up (mine probably was too at the bottom of a trash bag). He finally picked up assuming it was the roommate who ran out, but it wasn’t. It was a cop who said, “this is APD. If y’all don’t come to the house right now, all y’all goin to jail.” What we didn’t know was that our roommate had run to a nearby restaurant and called 911: something you should NEVER DO after your illegal poker game gets robbed. By the time the cops got there, the house was locked up, the lights were out, and APD assumed it was a hostage situation. When we pulled up to the house, there were two SWAT team vans out front with about a dozen dudes in helmets, carrying assault rifles. They even had my roommate draw the layout of the house in case they had to storm in. The only reason they didn’t push the issue of a poker table set up with counterfeit-proof chips and two decks of copags (the cadillac of playing cards) was because they thought they were about to have to shoot people with hostages around. 

One certainty about running a poker game that gets robbed is that you no longer run a poker game. It doesn’t matter that some idiot met with a drug dealer at our house and bragged about how much money he was winning while that drug dealer’s cousin (sunglasses/rifle guy) licked his lips…or that someone went out back to smoke and left *both* doors unlocked, even though we specifically said to smoke out front. None of that matters, because it already happened, and the game was already done. That being said, I’m glad it happened, because it steered my path away from poker and toward comedy, which was something I actually wanted to do. Crazy how shit works out.

This spring, I’m teamin up with two of the funniest guys I know: Dave Stone & Ryan Singer, and hittin the road for a 2 week, 14 city, balls to the wall comedy pilgrimage. We’re calling it 3 Headed Moron, and you should come to it.

4/17: Lafayette, LA - JP’s Bar
4/18: Huntsville, AL - The Sports Page
4/19: Chattanooga, TN - JJ’s Bohemia
4/20: Birmingham, AL - Buck Mulligan’s
4/21: Hattiesburg, MS - Brewsky’s
4/22: Mobile, AL - The Blind Mule
4/23: Pensacola, FL - Sluggo’s
4/24: Tampa, FL - New World Brewery
4/25: St. Petersburg, FL - Body Electric Yoga
4/27: Orlando, FL - Spacebar
4/28: Columbia, SC - New Brookland Tavern
4/29: Charleston, SC - Tin Roof
4/30: Greenville, SC - Radio Room
5/1: Atlanta, GA - Highland Inn Ballroom

Brooklyn is a hotbed for comedy right now, and specifically: Bushwick, Brooklyn…and even more specifically, the corner of Wilson Avenue and Stanhope Street. Everyone in the know knows there’s no shortage of great comedians on this particular block, and moreover, this particular apartment. Here is a list of the 5 hottest funny folks of 2015 who are currently living in the same apartment. 

KENNY DEFOREST

-Kenny is a tall, white, redheaded stand up comedian who is a man of many hats. He is not multi-talented, he literally owns and wears an impressive variety of flat billed hats. He moved to NY from Chicago, where he also did comedy and wore hats. He also plays basketball and recently had a weird infection in his hand. Be on the lookout for this funny (or so I’ve heard), tall, hat-wearing comedian in 2016! 

CLARK JONES

Clark Jones is also a comedian living in this apartment whose notoriety is on the rise, much like his blood sugar (he has diabetes)! Unlike Kenny, Clark is a man of just one, silly hat. This guy is not afraid to sing at the top of his lungs and dance the running man until someone finally laughs at him. Be on the lookout for this Chicago-bred, Morehouse-educated, calls-it-like-he-sees-it, pulls-no-punches comedian to sit in a chair backwards near you in the coming year.

BRIAN ALLEN MITCHELL

-Brian is a sweet boy with a dark and mysterious past who could snap at any moment. He’s from Akron, Ohio and is for some reason a die hard fan of the Cleveland Browns. Aside from the fact that Brian is a funny stand up comedian, he also is probably a talented sketch and improv actor (never made it out to a show). Brian also cleans up the most of anyone in the apartment, and recently bought a PS4. His favorite show is Gilmore Girls, and he’s very defensive about it.

ANDY SANDFORD

-Andy moved into 167 Stanhope in May to fill the void left by comedian Will Miles, and by his second week, no one could remember that Will had ever lived there. Sandford is the only comedian at 167 Stanhope to live in a room with no windows, which sounds more depressing than it is. And while he is undeniably the handsomest comedian in the apartment, he is embarrassed by flattery and insists on being judged by the content of his act and *not* his rugged good looks. Keep an eye out for this hunk in the very near future.

GILBERT LAWAND

Gilbert is the 5th and latest addition to this 4 bedroom Bushwick haha-house. The semi-recent Atlanta transplant is only crashing for however much time it takes to woo the Puerto Rican grandmother with a rent controlled apartment across the street. His status may be shaky, but his comedy is rock solid, AND he’s a certified public accountant to boot! He even won a comedy contest for accountants (yes, that’s a real thing that happens). Be on the lookout for this wacky Iraqi in 2016 (seriously, we’re all worried about him). 

You can stop looking at other comedian lists now. This pretty much covers it.

this ridiculous jnco sketch starring myself, Taylor Ketchum, and Steve Forrest dropped yesterday and is now over 35k views. Directed by the great Adam Wirtz 

the longest reply thread I’ve had on a picture of me with a big bat

I saw a vegan meme showing a pic of Cecil the lion and a picture of a cow that says “how is one life worth less than another?” Sorry vegs, but lions are worth way more than cows. First off, there are much fewer lions than there are cows, that’s just economics. Also, a lion’s majesticness is off the fuckin charts.

Tonight: “Cool Shit” @3 Kings Tavern

Tomorrow night: Soiled Dove Underground(8pm) & “Tickle Moster” @The Bug Theater(10pm)

Temple Horses had me in their newest sketch as a commentator for the World Series of Cornhole. Check it out.

Hey my record label made a cool lil soundcloud clip of my High School/Who’s On First bit if yer into that kinda thing 

Lord knows there’s enough op-ed current event tweet/blog/statuses, but I can’t resist pointing out that TLC has always been a morally bankrupt turd factory of a channel.

If you can remember the appalling TLC series, “Tias and Tiaras,” then you probably remember the spin-off, “Here Comes Honey boo boo.” We can make fun of how white trash that family is, sure, but keep in mind that those goobers were exploited for peanuts (3k per ep for the whole bunch!). It became the number one show on television, and when the season was over and contracts were up for renewal, it was leaked that the mom was dating a child molester. Something TLC was well aware of. These networks comb through every detail of their products lives (I was a part of a NatGeo pilot that didn’t pan out, and they already needed to know about any prior arrests/charges I had before we finished filming it)…trust me: they know about everything, and especially anything damaging.

The show was canceled when they wanted to cancel it. The boo boo family(?) were able to demand their proper cut, and the show’s novelty would have likely worn off after another season…and the best part: TLC actually got to take the moral high ground by canceling the show after the news was somehow mysteriously leaked to TMZ.

So when I hear speculation about whether TLC knew of the allegations made against Duggar years ago, it’s like people STILL don’t get it….Of course they knew! Are you nuts? They don’t give a shit. They wouldn’t give a crippled crab a crutch. If the ratings were right, they’d do a “5 Molested Kids & Counting” spin-off. Of course Josh Duggar is an absolute monster. I just think it is sickening that people are actually applauding TLC for “taking the moral high ground” (AGAIN!) without realizing that they are in fact just standing on top of molested children.

Ok, sorry. As you were.

Episode #96: Andy “a man with needs” Sandford (“Conan,” “Aqua Teen Hunger Force”) joins the podcast to talk about an epic trip of debauchery that the now-sober Dan St Germain made to Atlanta several years ago - its amazing that they survived that lost weekend as well as this episode where Dan and Sean get on each other’s case to the point where Dan defends himself as “an American,” because “he has a beard, a balls, and a heart.” Tom also took advantage of the situation to chastise Sean and much yelling ensued.

***The folks over at Connected Comedy asked me to write a guest article about my recent appearance on CONAN. It’s definitely for comedians, but who knows, ya may find it interesting***

I recently got to live out a longtime dream of telling my dumb jokes on CONAN.

Any comedian who has achieved some sort of goal or milestone in comedy (big or small) has had another comedian ask them, “How’d you get that?”

The question itself can have a rude connotation. It can be taken as, “How’d YOU get that and not me?” It could also imply that you “got” it, as opposed to having earned it. That being said, I prefer to assume the best intentions behind “How’d you get that?” because I am very aware that comedy is a pursuit which can leave you aimlessly flummoxed, and there is no real guide book (sorry, Judy Carter).

So when Connected Comedy asked if I’d be interested in writing a guest article about the experience, I figured I’d write what I’d want to read about if I was reading this instead of writing it. So I’ll do my best to appease the me that would be reading this.

Keep reading

Attention all Fandy Fandfords: I will be tellin jokes on CONAN Thursday May 7th. Please tune in! Here is some amazing artwork by mostlypenises in honor of this news.

I’ve been doin comedy in NYC for almost 4 years, and I still think about/am thankful for the ATL comedy scene I started in. One of the best parts about Atlanta is there is very little industry presence. It can serve as a perfect training facility for stand up that is kinda hidden away from the bullshit. The scene started to really explode about a year and a half after I started. Everything seemed to click with the comics coming up or relocating from smaller cities, and the venues that facilitated quality stagetime. I remember a palpable sense of progression and pushing yourself. I was consistently blown away by my friends and their new shit, and I knew I better not go up with some ol bullshit when my peers were bringin heat. There was definitely an unspoken obligation to bring it and not be a comedy wuss. Complaining about when you were going up or who you had to follow was unthinkable. Having a meltdown over a bad set was out of the question. This is the way I think it should be.

Keep reading

I don’t see why I have to file taxes when every time I get paid, they misspell my last name. My own record label even.

Wilmingtonians: You got a killer comedy club in your charming coastal town. This weekend, you should probably go see Todd Barry Friday and then Me Saturday. However, if you have to choose one, I’m sure Todd won’t be offended.

“Craigslist Parolee” with Taylor Ketchum, Steve Forrest, and myself. Enjoy! 

I’m havin a real shitty week. Shittier than I may let on. The shittiest even. Not gonna go into specifics, don’t need to; but I’d like to point out that the dumbass jokes I write for the stage, or even on fb, are the best way for me to deal with weeks like these so that I don’t go beating the shit out of the first drunk guy that mouths off to me in a bodega. Everyone should be so lucky to have somethin they know helps. I know it’s semantics whether comedy is considered “art” and some people think that’s a stretch. Well I don’t, because it can really do a lot.

here’s a promo for my upcoming episode of Comedians In Public where I try to tell jokes to people on Chat roulette 

The Scrabble world has become nothing but dummies and cheaters. You can’t play an honest game online at all. I set the shortest time limit possible, but people have become really good at using word builder apps etc. Also, “Qi” should be taken *back* out of the OSPD because it’s bullshit and we all know it. They only put it into the OSPD because people have a hard time with Q. Well tough shit, princess: it doesn’t belong in there. If “zen” isn’t in the OSPD, then a damn alternate spelling for “chi” sure as hell doesn’t belong. Back in the day, if you had Q and no U, the go-to play was “qat,” and beyond that, some crazy shit like “qaid” or “faqir.” OR, you picked up Q too late in the game and there simply was no play. You were stuck with it, resulting in a 10 point deduction at the end. And I’ll tell ya: We were all better off because of it.

Attention all Fandy Fandfords: let us unite! No wait, stay there. I’ll come to you.

• March 20th | The Big Hunt(8pm) | Washington, DC (info)
  
• March 21st | Dead Crow Comedy Club(8 & 10pm) | Wilmington, NC (info)
• March 27th | Great Scott(7pm) | Boston, MA (info)
• March 28th | Round Guys Brewing | Landsdale, PA (info)

Maybe you don’t live in these places, and you want me to speak comedically in your town. Well, I dunno what to tell ya. Your town could be the problem.

Disclaimer ***Yes I know it’s a long comedy blog. I wrote it cause I have severe insomnia and I feel that I am not wrong. If you think I am wrong, I don’t care. Do not try to start some debate about this shit. Just my 2 cents and you can take it or leave it. I don’t claim to be an expert or hot shit in any way. I just see a lot of hemming and hawing about festivals from what I believe to be a false sense of reality. If you think I’m an idiot, just ignore it and keep being your awesome self.***

I dunno if a lotta comics feel they are being bullshitted by festivals because they have to pay to submit, or maybe because a lot of fests kinda vaguely hint that the industry is there to find you, the savior of comedy…i understand having a bad taste in yer mouth if those are the expectations. As a person who has done the majority of festivals out there at one time or another, maybe I can help to explain why they can be a great experience if you understand what they actually do for you. To do that, I feel it’s necessary to explain what they don’t do for you.

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