Ha ha ha! Comedy Eric Schneider, Comedian

Ever since I could remember, I have had trouble sleeping because of my dreams. This may be hard to believe but in my 31 years I can only remember having one good dream. All the rest range from completely bizarre to absolutely terrifying. Most of them involve me chasing something or being chased or fighting something horrifyingly evil. Often, in my dreams, I’m falling either from a narrow freeway that spans across a large city or I’m trapped in a skyscraper that’s collapsing down. Sometimes I’m on the ground and the buildings are falling on top of me. Many of my dreams include monsters, vampires, swarms of bugs, bats and strangely enough, superheroes.

Rarely can I sleep for more than three hours at a time without being shaken out of a dream; and it’s only when I’m completely exhausted that I sleep soundly, because those are the times I don’t dream. Or at least I can’t remember them.

I think the worst though is, every now and then, I’ll dream that I’m paralyzed. I’ll be in bed, completely under the impression that I’m not sleeping or dreaming, but I’m unable to move. I begin to panic and try to scream, but my vocal chords are paralyzed as well. So I scream on the inside start crying. One time I had the paralyzed dream while I was sleeping on the couch in a funny position; cutting off circulation to my legs. When I woke up, I tried to stand up and went face first into the coffee table. Luckily I don’t have this dream too often.

It may sound strange, but I’ve only had sex in my dreams once. I once had a dream that I was going to have sex with the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.  She was so beautiful, I think she only existed in my mind as opposed to her being someone I saw in real life. Anyway, when the moment of truth came, I told her I didn’t want to have sex because I didn’t have a condom, and was afraid of getting AIDS.  You can imagine how pissed off I was when I woke up.  I literally said to myself, out loud, “Dream AIDS?!?! Are you retarded?!?!” I kept trying to go back to sleep to get another chance, but that didn’t work.

A few months ago, I talked to a therapist about my dreams, and she asked me to start writing  a dream log. Every time I’d wake up from a dream, she said to go straight to the computer and start typing. If you haven’t ever done this, I highly recommend giving it a shot. It’s pretty trippy to watch your memory fade right in front of your eyes. I would start typing and by the time I was done, I completely forgot what I typed. Of course the major parts of the dream were still in my head, but the tiny details would vanish.

I only followed through with my dream log for a few days because it really started to freak me out, and it wasn’t helping me sleep any better.  Anyway, last night, I came across my dream log and read it for the first time since I wrote it. At first, I didn’t even know what it was because I had no recollection of ever writing it.  It was like reading someone else’s words.

Today, as a little treat for you all, I’m posting an entry from my dream log. Keep in mind it is unedited and exactly how I typed it when I woke up from the dream. Enjoy:

3/19/05

I’m staying at my grandma’s house in Bayside. I have to sleep there for some reason… to get up early for something. The next door neighbor makes my mother angry because she has her car stereo turned up too loud in the morning. I listen to my mother complain but I take the neighbor’s side. I pick my nose trying to get at this one booger in my right nostril. I pull it out. It’s thick and strong… like rubber glue. It comes out in a long continuous string. So I pull and pull. By the time I’m done, I have about a golf ball sized ball. The last part is almost completely black. I think it’s what was plugging up my nose. I show it to my mom and carol, completely amazed by the size of it.

I’m somewhere with friends. There’s this guy there. He’s tall and skinny, and has blonde medium length to short receding curly hair and a goatee. He sort of reminds me of the tall guy who is always on “Who’s Line is it Anyway?” He is bossing and bullying and pushing us around but I can’t remember why. No one wants to stand up to him. I don’t know what he does or says to anger me but I fly off the deep end. I yell at him at the top of my lungs that he better not do whatever he did again. I start pushing him in the chest until I pin him on the couch. He tries to get up but I have great strength and he can’t move. My voice is loud and deep and intimidating and I wonder if my friends are impressed with its authoritative qualities. I look up and see they are relieved that someone has stood up to this guy, but I can tell that they also think I’m bluffing so they’re laughing. I can’t help but smile too, but I also know that I’m not bluffing… I wanted to scare the guy, but at the same time I was fully prepared to really let him have it if he tried to call my “bluff”. For good measure I threaten him. I tell him if he does “it” again, I’ll beat the crap out of him and make him suck my dick. I tell him not to think I’m kidding either, because I’m into sick shit like that, and I’ll really make him do it if he tests me. This time I look at my friends and really start chuckling at the complete absurdity of what I had just said. I look back at the guy and I see he’s crying and curled up in the fetal position; a fraction of the bully he used to be. I start to feel really guilty that I came down on him so hard, but then I start to feel angry at him for making me feel guilty when he was the one that tried to bully me first.

We are participating in a Native American dance ceremony in the woods somewhere. It looks like a wild-west attraction theme park. We’re instructed to park our cars then stand in a rectangle. I’m there with friends and the skinny blonde bully guy is there too. He’s still upset and so am I because now I feel like the bad guy. The music starts and everyone starts dancing. People are pulling into the “theme Park” late for the dance and it bothers me that they should be allowed to join. I’m not dancing. I’m not in a dancing mood until everyone joins hands and starts dancing together. I get caught in their connected rectangle and decide to just have fun and dance.

I’m in Sonny and Cher’s dressing room. Cher is wearing a brown suede jumpsuit and a jacket. She has an Indian headdress and feather earrings. Around her neck is a “collar” made of rings of bamboo maybe with feathers attached. I think it’s designed to be a chest plate. I take notice of the collar and tell Sophia “that’s what you wanted”. Cher says that Sonny bought the outfit for her, and she likes it except for the fact that her whole midsection is exposed.

There is some sort of cartoon character sitting on a public toilet. You can’t tell if this character is a boy or a girl. It has short spiky hair and thick large round glasses. For some reason it has to bend over and hold a cookie in between its butt cheeks. When it does bend over, I’m surprised to see that the artist has given the cartoon character a vagina.

I really don’t understand why some women post pictures of their kids on their myspace profiles along with pictures of their tits hanging out or their asses sticking up in the air wearing just a thong. Take Blondebabydoll for example. She took a lot of time filling out her profile. She wrote about finding a guy who would respect her and care for her and her little girl. Then, you click on her photos, and BAM!!! Boobs, ass, panties, bras, and cooch are flying everywhere! Oh, and if you scroll down a little more, you can see a photo of her daughter. (UPDATE: Blondebabydoll has since remarried and removed the photos of her ass and vagina. I guess the photos worked!)

Does anyone else see anything not quite right here? I’d be interested in finding out if anyone thinks this is no big deal.

I look at it this way: I don’t think I would post a picture of my ding dong next to a picture of my child. I don’t have children yet so I am just speculating, but I’m pretty sure I still wouldn’t do that. It just seems wrong somehow.Would it be ok if I posted a picture of my ding dong next to a picture of someone else’s child? For some reason that seems even worse.

Well, hey… whatever.

In related news, I read that a 40 yr old woman was arrested for hosting high school sex parties for her daughter and her friends. She provided the booze, the drugs and even participated in the action. She told police she just wanted to be a “cool Mom.” I have to say, if it weren’t so creepy, disgusting, and wrong, she could possibly be the coolest mom in the world!

The mom got caught because some kid that she serviced went and told his parents. He actually told police he thought she was a cool mom until he found out she was a pedophile! I wonder if he found out she was a pedophile before or after she banged him? Either way, I’m sure that kid is getting beat up for ruining it for the rest of kids.

Believe it or not, I actually participated in sex parties when I was in High School. Unfortunately, these parties were held in my bathroom, and I was only guest that would show up. I went to a lot of parties.

ANYWAY… I’m hitting the garage sale circuit this weekend. Gonna go look at a few couches. The Fabulous Amy D. told me about craigslist.org to find pretty much ANYTHING you can imagine for sale. I’m sure you all knew about it already, so no need to be as excited as I am. Thanks Amy! By the way… if you happen to be a gay dude, that craigslist is a pretty good way to hook up for some hot stranger ding dong in various restrooms around the Valley.

I think that’s all I have for tonight. Until the mind starts spinning again… have a good one!

I thought I’d share with everyone that I had a fantastic day! I think the only thing missing that could have possibly made my day any better was some sex.

First, I got to sleep in. The boss started work at noon because of the little party we had last night. It was exactly as I thought it would be, but with free food and free booze how much can you really complain?

Then, I got paid for 3 deals that closed this week, and I got another 4 new deals to start. Gotta always keep the bucket filled! I also got an extra thousand buckaroonies from the boss just for doing a good job! How often does that happen? If you answered a lot, then consider yourself lucky.

After work, I had my first session with my personal trainer, Antonio, and he kicked the living snot out of me. It was for a good cause so I include it in the list of good things.

And last but not least, the best part of my day: I talked to my Dad on the phone! My Dad lives back in NY and ever since I moved here to Arizona, I’ve done the worst job of staying in touch. I don’t know if anyone can relate, but do you ever not call someone because you feel guilty for not calling? I do that all the time! I’ll not call for a week. Then I tell myself I really need to call, but I don’t, and month goes by. Then I make myself promise to call the very next day, but I’ll forget. Next thing I know, I’m missing holidays and birthdays, and I figure surely everyone must hate  me, so I become completely terrified to call!

Honestly, I don’t know why I do that. I can’t even count how many people have been phased out of my life just because I stopped calling. Good people too. All I can say is thank god my dad doesn’t hold a grudge because we have a nice clean slate again.

So, all in all it’s been a great day. I hope you all can say the same.

You can see a few pictures of me and my dad after the break.

Tomorrow is my office party. We’re celebrating the close of our 25 deals this week by renting a stretch Hummer and going to a country western BBQ restaurant. For those of you who are local, we’re going to Rustler’s Rooste.

Now I’m sure there are people who work in places where it’s fun to hang out with your co-workers. I’m not one of those people. Tomorrow night will be a night of pure torture; having to listen to countless stories about Real Estate. If you never worked in sales before, imagine listening to this over and over and over and over:

“Then the customer says to me [INSERT DUMB REMARK HERE]. So I told him [INSERT WITTY RETORT HERE].”

There you have it. Every sales story ever told.

Anyway, I hope you all have better plans than I do.

The pigeons were at it again this morning. I didn’t bother interrupting them this time, and in return, I was treated to some of the hottest pigeon sex I’ve ever seen. I’m wondering if anyone else shares my new found obsession with pigeon porn. Hold on… let’s Google.

Right on!!! I’m not the only one:  http://www.callalillie.com/archives/2004/05/pigeon_voyeur.html

You really have to admire someone who comes up with something new. That’s why I’m totally fascinated by science and technology. Hell, the copy machine still blows my mind. Think about it… you stick a piece of printed paper into a slot, and seconds later, BAM! You have an exact duplicate of your printed paper. Is anyone else amazed? Anyone? No? Well whatever… just sit in front of your flat screen monitors and stay completely unimpressed. See if I care!

All I can say is thank goodness for the people who actually paid attention in school. Can you imagine what this world would be like if after receiving their first wedgie, or getting stuffed into a locker, nerdy kids said “Fuck it! Being smart is way too much of a hassle.”?

I think we should all take a moment and give our respect to those kids.

Ok, the moment is done and so am I. Good night.

So, I was watching TV this afternoon (TLC Trading Spaces) when I heard this OOOOOH OOOOOH OOOOOOOOH noise coming from somewhere. I turned down the TV, and it stopped. I turned the volume back up and a few moments later, it started again. OOOOOOOH OOOOOOOOOOOH OOOOOOOH. At first it sounded like it was coming from the ceiling, so I thought maybe the old lady upstairs was getting lucky (eeewww gross.) Then I realized it was coming from outside. I opened my door, looked up and saw two pigeons doing the dirty birdie dance in a little nook below the overhang. I shooed them away with a broom. Hey, if I’m not getting any, no one is!

It’s 8:40PM now, and I’m sitting here in the same clothes as yesterday, coincidentally sipping on a dirty martini (shaken not stirred)…

I feel like such a big boy living all by myself, although I have to admit it’s kinda lonely. There’s something to be said about having your own space though. I find that I’m like 100x cleaner than I was living with roommates. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I REALLY know no one else is going to clean up my mess. I think I vacuumed the rug 3 times in two years at my last place, but now I do it 2-3 times a week. Same thing goes with cleaning the bathroom. You don’t even want to know what the old bathroom looked like.

I shop a lot more now too. I actually bought furniture from a store! I think I’m addicted to IKEA. Last week I bought a milk frother thingy to make your milk foamy for cappuccino. I don’t have a cappuccino machine, but who cares? Foamy milk is cool!

I definitely buy more groceries now too, because I actually cook for myself! I made the sausage and peppers last night. They came out great. Had the leftovers for lunch today. I made BBQ ribs last week. Thank god for the Food Network.

Since getting my own place, I’ve been doing a lot of “firsts”. For example, for the first time in my life, I hung blinds, put up curtains, put up a wine rack, and installed a magnetic knife holder thingy above the counter. I have to hang everything on the walls because I have only one kitchen drawer and virtually no cabinet space. I can’t wait until winter so I can use my fireplace for the first time. I want to see how fast the fire department responds in my neighborhood.

The grand allure of living alone, of course, is being able to walk around naked. I have to tell you, I never really understood why that is so great, but now I do. Not so much for the naked prancing (although I do my share of prancing), but more for the sheer convenience of it. I don’t have to get dressed before I get dressed to iron my clothes in the morning. Also, if I’m taking a dump, and the phone rings, I can just pull a Peter Cottontail and hop over to the phone. No muss, no fuss! Not only that, I don’t have to sweat up an entire outfit if I want to do one of my Tae-Bo tapes. Tae-Bo in the nude… it’s all the rage!

So all in all, living in the bachelor pad isn’t that bad. The cat seems to like it. Maybe one day one of you lucky ladies will have the honor of spending the night, and can experience all the pleasures of my humble, yet comfy abode. On second thought, maybe it’s best if you just lurk outside my window.

For those of you who are still wondering what a Peter Cottontail is… it’s when you need to leave the bathroom in the middle of a poop, so you ball up a bunch of toilet paper, cram it in your butt, and clench tight to keep it secure (like a tail). Then, you hop like a bunny to your destination and back.

Don’t even try to pretend you’ve never done it.

I got the whole thing straightened out with the camera. I can start bragging now:

$284 for a brand new Sony DSC-P200! Out the door! Tax, title, and license! Beat THAT suckers!!!

(If you really do beat it, I don’t want to know. )

So after I went to the bank to clear up the camera mess, I stopped by my local gym and got a membership. I even signed up for a trainer (talk about sucker.) The good news is everyone there seemed pretty nice, although people always seem to be nice when you’re giving them your money. My trainer is this short, kinda wiry, very muscular black dude named Antonio. He seems to have a rather guarded, stoic, and even mean disposition, and doesn’t talk very much. When I told him I’d like to concentrate on losing fat, and getting toned he said, “Yeah you needs to get rid of dem man titties!”

HE’S PERFECT!!!

Antonio and I seem to have nothing in common so I don’t have to worry about feeling obligated to have idle chit chat about sports n’ shit while I’m working out PLUS he seems to be just as disgusted with my body as I am so I can probably count on him to work me hard. I start my training on Wednesday, and to celebrate I went out and bought some sausage and peppers for dinner and a banana cream pie and ice cream for dessert. Yummy!

For those of you who are less interested in my quest to get fit, don’t worry I won’t turn my blog into a complete “Look at me, I’m losing weight, I’m so great!” sort of thing. God knows there aren’t a lot of things more annoying than a chubby person going on and on about what they eat, and how they exercise. Chances are I’m going to give up, so it’ll just be less embarrassing if I don’t spend the next few months preaching the fitness gospel to you.

So silently, to yourselves, wish me luck and I’ll hit you with an update soon.

P.S. If any of you live in Mesa and you want to join a gym, go see Katherine at Fitness Works on McKellips. I get no kickback, she just took really good care of me today and I always appreciate good service.

I’m such a retard.

Long Version (for Short Version scroll down)

Several years back, I had a Sony digital camera that I used for work. I loved that camera. Unfortunately, it belonged to the company so when I changed jobs, I had to give the camera back. Jerks! So, I decided I would buy myself the same camera but I ended up doing so much research on cameras, I researched myself right out of buying the one that I wanted, and got a Canon instead. Well, the Canon wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great, and although I kept it for a few years, I never really liked it.

This past holiday season, I decided to give my Canon to someone as a gift, and planned to finally get the Sony.  Then, like an idiot, I did the exact same thing and ended up with an Epson. See, what had happened was my mom had an older Epson that took great pictures, so I figured  surely their newer cameras must be really good. Well they aren’t. In fact, the camera I bought sucked so much, it went from $299 to $79 after the holidays.

So, feeling completely ripped off,  I sold the Epson to this girl at work for $150 (she’ll never know) and then went straight to eBay and ordered the Sony I originally wanted (actually it was a bit newer version than the original). Weeks went by and nothing ever came in the mail. Eventually, I went online to check the tracking number from DHL.  According to their website, it said they delivered the camera about a week earlier but no one ever signed for it. They just left it uncovered, at my front door, in my shitty ass neighborhood.

First of all, the only vehicle access to my townhouse is at the back entrance, not the front.  Also, all mail and package deliveries are made to the back door, not the front. In fact, you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to even get to the front door.  You have to actually park in the back then walk around the block about a 1/4 mile to deliver something to the front door. UPS, FedEx, and the US Postal Service all seem to understand this, but DHL and the frigging Pizza Hut guy have some sort of common sense deficiency. Anyway, it was clear that one of my scum bag neighbors stole my camera, and I’ve been cameraless ever since.

(Begin Short Version)

For 7 months now, I’ve had my eye on the newest 7MP Sony camera. It retails for $399 but the price has been slowly dropping… VERY VERY slowly. Too slowly if you ask me. Right now, the cheapest price on the Internet is $329 including shipping.

Late last night (early this morning), while browsing eBay I came across this guy who was auctioning off two Dell Discount Promotion Codes for  Sony cameras. There were no restrictions on the discounts so you could combine the two codes to get a giant discount on one camera! I figured, there’s no way I’m going to pay some jackass for coupon codes when I can try to find them myself on the Internet. And what’d ya know? I found them!

So, with my coupon codes locked and loaded, I logged onto Dell’s website and ordered my elusive Sony camera for $284!!! Are you kidding me?!? I was filled with pure glee and excitement and other synonyms. A few minutes later, I received an email confirming my order for two cameras for $663. Wait… what the fuck?!?! In my excitement, I must have double clicked the “Add to Cart” button and ordered 2 cameras by mistake!

I tried to cancel one of the cameras but I couldn’t because they split the promotion codes over the two cameras. One code per camera. If I canceled one I would also be canceling one of the discount codes.  So I decided  just to cancel both cameras and REORDER another camera using both codes. I’m so smart.

This created a whole new problem. My bank was now under the impression that I just tried to order $900 worth of cameras from Dell in the past 30 minutes, and they put a block on my account.  Not only did they decline the order for the third camera but I couldn’t even cancel the order for the first two cameras. Now I have to wait for normal business hours in order to call Dell and my bank to fix this mess.

Here’s the kicker… I think one of the promo codes expires this weekend. So, if I run into any problems convincing my bank to lift the block, I could be screwed. Grrrrrrrrr! I’m sure it’s not the end of the world, but what a fucking pain in the ass! I guess that’s what I get for being such a tightwad. But $284… c’mon, you have to admit that’s a great deal!

OK… so I’m browsing through one of the dating sites today, not more than a few hours after posting my last bloggy about glamour shots, and I come across this girl.  Can you believe she is a year YOUNGER than I am?!?!

Today, I hereby call upon the women of the world, and implore them to put an end to this travesty of photography!  Say “NO!” to galamour shots, and say “NO!” to feather boas! Together, we can make a difference!

I’m going to be single forever.

I have 8 Myspace friends now.  All women.  Hmmm… I seem to be quite the ladies man.  I hope no one expects to actually communicate with me since I’m quite the antisocial ladies man.

Complaint of the Day:  Glamour Shots

“Ok now tilt your head… a little more… more… great, that looks uncomfortable enough.  Now smile like you’re eating poop.  Great! Now move the feather boa away from your cheek just a little bit… PERFECT!”

*click*

Would someone please explain to me why anyone would ever want a glamour shot?!?!  I’ve always considered the glamour to be the NASCAR of photography; only appreciated by Jesus loving Mullet Amurricans who live in homes with wheels.  Those of you who have mullets or wheelie homes, please save your whining… this is my blog, so deal with it.  And before you start busting my hump, the picture on my website is NOT a glamour shot, it’s a head shot (not to be confused with a facial).  Bottom line… glamour shots are bad mmmkay.

OK, moving on…  Now I need a little advice.  If you ask a woman if she’s married and she says “sorta”, does that make her available?  I’m sure anyone in their right mind would probably see trouble written all over this situation and advise me to keep my 10 foot pole far far away, but I really don’t want to hear from those people.  I want to hear from the people who think it’s perfectly acceptable to get involved with a married woman.  Besides, don’t all long-lasting relationships always start out by breaking up a marriage?  Feel free to comment with your advice.

Last order of business… I’m getting fat.  Ok, that’s not true.  I’m already fat.  My clothes are tighter, my face is rounder, and my man boobs are fuller.  Wait, maybe I’m pregnant!  Right now I’m just under the weight limit for the semi affordable treadmills I’m considering buying.  Once I hit 250lbs, I think the conveyor belt won’t even spin when I stand on it.

I don’t know when it happened but at some point in my life, the term “going out to play” turned into the word “exercise”.  It’s been a battle of the belly ever since.  All I know is I need to get busy soon if I expect to score with this married chick.

I’m thinking of starting some sort of fitnessy, journaly, updatey, thingy with my bloggy thingy.  I’m not really sure how publicizing my progress is supposed to motivate me.  Maybe I can do it to motivate others.  I bet there are a few chunky butts who read this blog who could be inspired by my hard work and dedication.

I’m on my lunch break now.  Right now, at this very moment, there are millions of people around the world who are also on their lunch breaks.  Think about that.  I mean really THINK about that, man!  We’re all cosmically bound by this unspoken brotherhood of mid-day nourishment while we sail through life on parallel ribbons of consciousness which…

TIMES UP!

Back to work.

Today, I had one of those days today where everything didn’t go completely wrong, but nothing went smoothly.  Here are a few highlights:

First, my boss instructed me to strong arm a client who hadn’t paid his earnest money.  When I called the client, he insisted he gave us a check.  My boss claimed we never received, so she conference called him and berated the client (and his mother, by the way) and told him there wasn’t a chance in a monkey’s ass she could be mistaken.   A few hours later, I ended up finding the check on my boss’ desk under a stack of papers.

Now, I’m sure there are other ways to feel like a complete retard, but being wrong after arrogantly insisting you’re right ranks right up near the top.  Feel free to comment and share one of your most retarded moments.

On my lunch hour today, I stopped off at the bank to deposit a check, then hopped over to Quiznos for a sandwich.  When I placed my order, I was extra pushy about how I wanted them to make my sandwich.  Normally, I’m not one to be a pain in the ass patron.  I usually just bottle up my complaints because I always think, “What’s the use?  What can I possibly get out of complaining?”  But last time I went to Quiznos, they didn’t wrap my sandwich up tight and I ended up with a ball of bread and warm meat at the bottom of a paper bag.  Today was my day to take a stand and speak up!

Unfortunately I chose the wrong day to stand on my soap box, because when it was time to pay for my lunch, I realized I forgot my wallet.  I started retracing my steps trying to remember where I left it:  “Let’s see… I know I had my wallet earlier today.  I remember fiddling around with the magnet money clip while my hands were in my pockets.  I’m pretty sure I had it when I went to the bank… THE BANK!!! I left it at the bank!!!”

So, I told the cashier to hold my sandwich while I drive back to the bank to get the wallet which I surely left on the counter when I was endorsing my check.  Long story short… no wallet at the bank, no wallet at the office, and no lunch.

So guess what I found on the kitchen counter when I got home from work today?  My wallet!  So much for my memory and retracing my steps.  Needless to say I was starving when I got home, and needed to eat.  I ran straight across the street to Sonic and ordered way too much food, because not eating all day will do that to you.  The rollerblade kid came out with my food, and when I tried to pay for it, he told me my debit card was declined.  I tried explaining that there was no way that could be possible because there’s plenty of money in my account, but clearly the kid’s expression screamed, “Bullshit!”

Dinner tonight was pasta with no sauce and a piece of rubbery chicken cooked on the Foreman Grill.

I’m glad this day is over.

Hey look at me!  I’m blogging!  I don’t even know what a blog is, nor how it differs from a message board really, but I guess that doesn’t matter.

The first thing I should do is give you all a pre-blog update. Uh… I was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1974, I did some stuff, went to some places, met some people, logged on to myspace.com, and created this blog. That brings us up to now.

It’s about 10 to 3 in the AM, but the time stamp already let you know that. Tonight, I came home from work, got into my workout clothes, and then took a nap. I don’t know how many calories that burned, but I’m sure it was a lot fewer than I had intended. So, at 11PM I awoke bright eyed and bushy assed; continuing the vicious cycle of being tired all day and up all night. When will I learn? Oh well, it was nothing a few hours of Food Network, TLC, and HGTV couldn’t cure. I can’t seem to get enough Iron Chef, although tonight it was the Battle of the Yams, which turned out to be extremely boring.

After TV time, I did a portion of a jigsaw puzzle. It’s a completely tacky picture of the Coliseum in Rome, and it’s one of a collection of 10 puzzles that came in the box. Each puzzle ranges from 500-1000 pieces, and every one of them is some sort of gaudy Italian landmark… except for one puzzle of two female lions (or lionesses I guesses). I don’t know where they fit into the whole Italian theme. If you’re a bad speller, maybe you can spell “Italion” with the word “lion” in it, but that’s as close as I can come to a connection.

Well there you have it… my first blog entry. Not bad… informative and slightly witty without being over the top. I’m pretty proud of it. Until the next time… goodnight…

I just got back from performing at Rula Bula Irish Pub in Tempe, AZ, and it was fucking hilarious!

It was open-mic night, but for musicians… not comedians. That didn’t discourage me. My goal, actually, was to see how long I could stay on stage before getting kicked off. I hadn’t performed in over a month, and wanted to do something that would leave a lasting impression, so I dressed up as the Arab, Mohammed Hameet Nazir, and with guitar in hand, I set out for Rula Bula.

When I got there, there was already some guy on stage playing guitar in front of a crowd of about 10 diners. He looked up and saw me standing there with my guitar and acknowledged me by giving some sorta “Musician’s Solidarity Nod”. The dude played a few more songs, and when he was done he motioned to me that it was my turn to go on. As I got set up, he asked me what kind of music I played. Trying to keep a straight face, I said, in my “authentic” Arab accent, “Mostly cultural pieces… sort of new age.”

“Cool, man.”

As soon as the musician packed up his gear, and made his way off stage, I grabbed the mic and said, “So, how about that guy? My God, he sucked! I never heard such horrible music in my life.” The musician turned his attention back towards the stage and I addressed him directly, “My friend, your singing sounds like two cats having sex! I’m kidding, I’m kidding… it sounds like three cats having sex!”

Well it was all down hill from there. I proceeded to tell audience that I initially thought the pub was an Arab restaurant because Rula Bula, “…in my language, means goat’s penis. Which is very tasty, by the way, but only if you cook it right. The key is to leave the foreskin on.” Of course, after embarrassingly admitting my mistake, I was quick to compliment Irish cuisine by letting them know my favorite Irish dish was Lucky Charms. “They’re magically delicious!”

The Lucky Charms comment caused the owner of the pub to come flying out of the kitchen. He raced over to the bartender, and although I couldn’t hear what he was saying, he was frantically pointing at the stage and was visibly pissed off. The bartender, of course, had no answers for the owner and just kept shrugging his shoulders and forming the words “I don’t know” with his mouth.

Unfazed, I forged on! It was time to commence with the musical segment of my act. I picked up my guitar and started strumming away at the strings. Keep in mind, I don’t know how to play a single chord on the guitar. I then began to serenade the audience with my original lyrics:

I love jihad!
I love jihad!
Yalah yah ala leh chem mach salaam amah sahib!
George Bush I spit… *PATOOIE!!!*
I love jihad!”

(My CD comes out in the fall by the way).

I think the audience liked the song, but I could tell they were still trying to figure out if I was for real or not. The owner, on the other hand, did not appreciate my musical talents. He pointed at me to get my attention, then made a throat-cutting gesture, and called out, “MOHAMMED!!! YOU HAVE ONE MORE MINUTE, AND THAT’S IT!!!!” Then he turned to no one in particular and said, “Who the hell is this guy?”

I used the first part of my last minute to sing a classic Arab favorite: “I Feel For You” by Chaka Kahn.

Finally, I closed with my rendition of “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off!”

You say Alqueda
I say Alkida
You say Virginia
I say vagina
Alqueda, Alkida
Virginia, vagina
Let’s call the whole thing off!

“Thank you very much! I’m Mohammed Hameet Nazir. Have a good night!”

I quickly packed my guitar and made my way towards the exit. On my way out the door, I thanked the owner for the opportunity to perform for his patrons. He was friggin irate! His face was the color of purple horseshoe marshmallows. He barked at me; saying that he didn’t know how I was even allowed on stage because they stopped doing open-mic night over 2 months ago. Of course that was a lie, but it was clear that he never wanted to see my face in his restaurant again!

Mission accomplished! I’ll be back next week without the costume!

Special thanks goes out to Gregory Ford, the real musician, for being such a good sport. Also, thanks for playing Hendrix for me. And of course, a gigantic thanks goes out to the owner of Rula Bula for being such a bad sport. Without him, this story wouldn’t have been funny!