Ha ha ha! Comedy Eric Schneider, Comedian

I’ve been such a hermit lately, I may have forgotten what’s it’s like to go outside. So yesterday, I decided to spend the whole day away from the ole apartamento. I woke up early, scrubbed the body parts, put on some clean clothes and headed down to the Tempe Lobster Festival. Can you think of a better way to spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon than to stroll around in the fresh air and the sunshine, listening to some live music, and eating tons of lobster? Neither can I.

I want you to close your eyes. I want you to imagine yourself at a Lobster Festival. What do you see? Do you see countless numbers of vendors offering up a cornucopia of delicious lobster recipes? Do you see yourself wanting to try just one more variety of lobster before declaring yourself officially stuffed? Can you feel yourself being overwhelmed by the sights and smells of great food and good music and people enjoying life? Now I want you to picture the opposite of all that. Welcome to the Tempe Lobster Festival.

Tempe Town Lake seems to be in a constant state of construction, so there was no convenient parking nearby. Instead they directed me over to a dirt lot nearly a mile away from the event, and charged me $5 to park. I then had to walk all the way back where they charged me an additional $10 to gain admission to the festival. As I passed through the entrance, I was corralled through a narrow, closed off labyrinth lined with carnival “games of skill” and various vendors where I was accosted by carnies and sales people all goading me step right up to shoot the basketball, knock down the pins, buy the timeshare, and sign up for the credit card.

After being forced to say “no thank you” repeatedly to a dozen or so persistent jackasses, I finally arrived at a wide open fairground, only to find out that there was one, yes ONLY ONE vendor selling lobster. One vendor, serving one lobster per person, one way. Boiled. They charged $18 for a small lobster and $40 for a large. If you didn’t intend on spending that much all at once on a lobster dinner or thought that you might browse around and steal some free samples, guess what? No lobster for you!

Sure I could have had a $6 cheese crisp on an 8″ tortilla, or even an $8 “Colossal” Hot Dog, which I could have garnished over by the condiment table which was completely surrounded by bees, but I wasn’t at the The Tempe Cheese Crisp and Hot Dog Festival. I was at the Lobster Festival, and I was going to eat some lobster God damn it!!!. I had been thinking about lobster all week and my brain and body were fully prepared to experience delicious lobsterrific bliss. No feelings of disappointment nor a $40 price tag was going to stop me from having it!

So, I made my way over to the lobster ticket booth and bought a voucher for the large lobster dinner. While I was waiting on line to get my food, I noticed a crowd of people all gathering around this one area. I left my place in line to check it out, and realized they had set up a lobster prep area, where, after you received your lobster, you could go and have some guys take the shell off for you. I also happened to noticed that there were flies everywhere. They were swarming all over the cutting boards, on the lobsters, around the garbage cans, and on the people waiting in line. Finally, I noticed one of the prep guys sweating heavily while he was working over a plate of lobster. Sweat was dripping off his face and onto the food and the cutting board. Although he was wearing gloves, he used his gloved hands to wipe the sweat from his brow and chin, and then went right back to touching the lobster.

I had seen enough.

I didn’t even bother getting back in line, and headed straight for the exit. I stopped a middle aged couple on my way out to give them my $40 lobster coupon. It took longer for me to convince them that I wasn’t trying to scam them or have a threesome with them than it did for me to get the ticket in the first place. Eventually, they reluctantly took the ticket. Bunch of ingrates!

The day wasn’t all bad. I ended up having a very nice lunch across the street at Monti’s La Casa Vieja, which, in Spanish, means Fuck the Lobster Festival.

After lunch, I hopped, skipped, and jumped over to Wells Fargo Arena to watch my beautiful Lady Sun Devils kick the uterus out of Missouri. They’re now 2-0 after beating #16 Vanderbilt the night before. Yes, I know!!! I’m very excited too!!!

So childrens… that’s all for me today. I hope you all had fun weekends. Until next time.

Please bow your heads.

Brothers and sisters, let us pray. Dear Lord, please forgive the New York Yankees who, yet again, failed to show up for the post season. Let your glorious light shine down upon them to reveal the error of their ways, and may they receive your grace and guidance so they may come back next season stronger than ever. Please look after Bernie Williams as he begins his journey into retirement and, if your divine holiness deems us worthy of your consideration, please let Bubba Crosby be traded to Kansas City. Amen.

And that reminds me, since the Yankee’s season is over, I’ll let you know the “mystery” song I posted for the Name That Tune game is the New York Yankee Theme Song, “Here Come the Yankees” composed by Bob Bundin and Lou Stallman in 1967.

Like the Yankees, the baseball season is over for me as well, as I will not watch another baseball game until next Spring. The World Series without the Yankees is like a sandwich without the tangy zip of Miracle Whip. Soooooo, it’s on to my next sporting passion: Arizona State University Women’s Basketball!!!

Please control your groans and gasps of disbelief, and save your played out commentary about the validity of women’s sports, because I’ve heard it all before. The women play just as hard as the men, and often with more heart. I love the game, and I will continue to support it even if I am the only non-lesbian paying money to watch it. As a matter of fact, I have two season tickets in row number one behind the scorer’s table at half court.

The only problem is I usually have no one to go with. If any of you can pass my 47 point interview process, show a genuine interest in the game, have never cut off a man’s penis and flung it out a car window, don’t expect me to put out, and can tolerate my company for a few hours, feel free to let me know. Maybe one of you can join me court-side.

Go Devils!

Although I try not to think I wear the mark of the eternal fool, my life seems to be characterized by a series of goofy blunders, unfortunate coincidences, and tragic events. Most of the time, it’s nothing major; just enough to keep the Big Guy upstairs laughing and clapping like a retarded kid at a Wiggles concert.

Tonight, I was on my way out to a basketball game, got into my car, turned the key, and…. nothing. Well not nothing nothing. Just not the something I wanted. Dead battery. 2nd time this summer.

I wondered what were the chances one of my neighbors would help me out and give me a jump. These are the same neighbors who watched me try to move an 8 foot couch into my apartment all by myself and didn’t bother to ask if I needed help. Dirty coxuckers!

So I grabbed my jumper cables, and knocked on this Mexican dude’s door. I guess I don’t really need to specify he’s Mexican since all my neighbors are Mexican. Anyway I asked him if he would give me a jump. He said he had no cables and tried to close the door in my face. So I pushed the door back open and held my cables up to show him I was fully equipped. He rolled his eyes, sucked his teeth, and yelled back to his girlfriend, in Spanish, that he was going outside to help the asshole from across the way. There wo need to tell him I understand Spanish considering how generous he was being.

A few moments later, we got my car started. Thankfully it went a lot smoother than the last time I had to jump my car when I painfully discovered someone mounted my battery backwards. I ended up crossing the negative and the positive contacts, and melted the jumper cables and burnt my hand.

Anyway, I said to my neighbor, “Thank you sooo much! I really appreciate it!” I never felt so white in my life.

I really didn’t have time stick around and let the battery recharge,  so I got in the car and took off right away. I managed to make it three blocks away from my apartment before the car died again. I happen to live in one of those shitty ass neighborhoods located right next to a really nice neighborhood. Lucky for me, my car took a shit on the good side, and someone actually jumped out of their car and helped me push my car to a safe area.

I was about to pull my hair out when I looked up and saw a Checker Auto Parts right across the street!!! Yippie!!!

I ran across the street and burst into the store like I was in an old western, barging into the saloon after being lost in the desert for 3 days. Well guess what? Those fuckers wouldn’t help me change my battery because I broke down across the street, and their policy forbids them from leaving the premises. They wouldn’t even lend me a fucking wrench to change the battery myself. So, I bought a wrench and a battery and hauled my ass back to my car. Of course the wrench only worked on 3 of the 4 nuts I needed to un-nut. The 4th one was different because a few months ago, someone broke into my car and stole all my stereo equipment and they severed the battery cable in order to disable the alarm. Because they don’t make the battery harness for that car anymore, I had someone custom make a new one for me, and he happened to use a different size nut.

So I went back to the store to try to guess what size wrench I would need, but this time there were more people in the store, and it took forever to get up to the counter. When I finally did, the guy told me I was in the line for people who needed parts from the back. I needed to be in the check out line which was the long line next to me. FUCK!!!

Guess what? I bought the wrong size wrench again. There was no way for me know what size wrench I needed because I’m just not tooly that way!!! Well, I decided I wasn’t going back to the store, and instead I started pummeling the nut with the wrench while I called it a motherfucker over and over. I ended up cutting my hand, but I also managed to loosen the nut, and even change the battery!

It was smooth sailing from there, except for the fact that, in my complete rage, I spaced out and drove to work instead of the arena.

Eventually I did get to the game at around halftime. Oh and I ran into that girl who bought my old couch! I’m sure being covered in sweat, grease, dirt, and a little bit of blood really turned her on. Doh!

Stay tuned for the next episode of The Eric Schneider Show.

P.S. We lost the game.