End of Blogarithm

Time to pack my things and just sit at my cubicle for the next 20 minutes. I'm envisioning Happy Hour. Not a place where alcohol flows like Rapunzel's hair but a place where blogging is a thing of the past. Where creativity gets renewed refreshed. A place where there are no more late fees.

I've had a late fee at Blockbuster for over a year now on the movie Latin Kings of Comedy. I'm so adamant about not paying it because it's my friend's fault for keeping it out 2 days overdue, that I haven't been back to Blockbuster since. It's not that I don't appreciate movies. The Coen Brothers are my favorite filmmakers. In fact maybe if I didn't have this late fee, I wouldn't have this kind of time to blog. I'd be watching Big Momma's House and...

Wait, I'd rather blog

For those of you who don't know what went on all day today, since I do stand-up fulltime I decided to live a day in the life of the normal working person. I blogged from 8 to 5, twice an hour, taking a lunch break, so that it gave me some semblance of a workday. Scroll all the way down or look up the blog entry Eight O'Clock ish to start at the beginning.

I was off on a roll for a while, but for the last couple of hours it's been a chore to get any kind of blogwork done. Doing the math, it's 17 blogs in a day. My creativity well is dry. Spit in it all you want. This puppy needs a week to refresh.

I love to write. It's what keeps me somewhat sane. This whole experience though tested my creative limits. I recommend it for those who have the time because, especially being a comic, you must write. Not only when things are funny to you or when you're feeling funny, but when things aren't funny (make them funny) and especially when you're not feeling funny. It's not about being funny rather than thinking funny. Write and the think funny will come

So let's recap what we learned in the first ever Take Your Blog to Work Day.
- The President always looks like he's about to start laughing
- Plan B for me: Vegas lounge singer
- Drunk equals Sleepy
- I temped a temp job
- Donuts over bagels any day
- Don't hold back a hero
- Fetuses don't need stimulation
- I've got jury duty
- Don't follow in Lint's footsteps
- High school sucked
- The audience is the boss

Take these. These truths which I have given to you and store them keep them cherish them Superfly them into something sweet, life-affirming, and altogether downright funky.

See you next week

Point of Authority

The next couple of weeks are the busiest travel-wise since I started doing stand-up 4 years ago. It's the Bahamas for the weekend, then off to Illinois next Thursday and L.A that Saturday. All are in front of completely different crowds, demographic-wise. The trickiest thing with stand-up is learning how to adjust your act according to the audience. The audience is the boss and it's your job as a comedian to make sure the boss is happy.

The boss decides what's funny. It's up to you to appease the boss yet maintain your artistic integrity at the same time. Sometimes the boss just stares at you. You wanna kick him. But you can't because he's the reason you're getting paid. Sometimes the boss is eating and you still have to compete for his attention. Never works. When the boss is eating, the boss is focused on eating. I could be naked riding a pogo stick on ice and he wouldn't even lift his head. Bosses come in different ages, races, religions. Especially Indian bosses. If you talk about Hinduism to a Muslim boss, they don't wanna hear it and vice versa. Christian bosses don't like hearing about any kind of religion at all.

The best time to schmooze to your boss? When he's drunk. That's when the boss is generous, having a great time. Sometimes you can call the boss whatever you want because he's so wasted he doesn't realize what you're saying. Different comedians have different bosses. The key is to one day have your very own boss. That loves what you do every time out. He loves you even when you blog. I want a boss. My very own boss. To love me to hold me to pat me on the head.

But I need a promotion first.

Positive Regression

It's two months until my high school reunion, and I'm still unsure whether to go. I'd like to think I could handle it, but the memories are so annoyingly irritating, why would I wanna relive it? There's two schools of thought when it comes to how to approach your reunion. Some people tell me to go because you'll have a great time. Some say that I shouldn't go and that it's a miserable time. The first group I call "the popular kids" the second group were "nerds like me"

I've never shaken the nerd status. I just assume no one can tell I'm a nerd because I stay well hidden behind my Gandalf beard. I'd like to think I'm much more confident now than I was then. But I think seeing all the girls now that never dug me back then would just make me revert back to adolescent Paul who sat with the Asian immigrant kids at lunch because the hot girls didn't want me at their table.

I did learn to speak Vietnamese though. I learned "loser", "let me borrow your homework" and "pizza day". Thank you Truong Nguyen. If you had never told me such things, I'd never have been so cultured.

I'm O.B ing today (over-blogging) just to see if I can do it and it is the biggest mental collapse I've felt in a while. I've never stretched my creativity to the point to where it looks like it'll never snap back but I think I've reached that point. I didn't want to talk about the struggle of blogging 17 times in one day, but my brain's goo. Soupy. I don't feel funny. And I still have a couple of more blogs to go. Shhh. If you close your eyes, you can hear my blog trainer barking at me to keep going

"Two More Varghese! Feel the Burn!"

Tree: Twelve P.M

This past weekend in L.A the dj told me that he also rents out animals for people's weddings. For a Korean wedding, the bride's father wanted a giraffe.

So there it was, a giraffe munching on leaves while the ceremony went on. Each step the giraffe made, the entire wedding party flinched. He wanted a giraffe because he said his daughter liked giraffes. If I was divorcing that woman I'd bring a picture of the giraffe to court

"Your honor, the defendant says she's not high-maintenance. I know we had the wedding in our backyard, but look at what's eating the leaves. The dogs were so scared they wouldn't go outside for weeks."

I like monkeys, but I don't want them dressed in tuxes, posing as my groomsmen. I do like cereal though, so if instead of bouquets I could have each bridesmaid holding a box of Cocoa Pebbles, I'd be a happy hubby.

Fading Fast

So tomorrow I'll be in Miami to jump on a cruise ship to head to the Bahamas. I have no idea what to expect. I know that I will end up much darker than I did boarding the ship.

That's a big deal among the Indian community. Many Indian people still consider light-skinned people to be more attractive. Some actually think it's a sign of intelligence. To each their own as to what they consider more attractive but to think I'm dumber because of my skin color? That's implying that all of us Indians started off light-skinned and the second we did something wrong we dropped a shade. With this logic and this skin tone, I must've toiletpapered Mount Rushmore.

It's bad enough that racism still exists, but to have your own people judge you based on how dark you are is pathetic. As light-skinned an Indian as you think you are, there's always someone more light-skinned than you. I'd love to meet an Albino Indian just so I could come crawling to him in search of supreme knowledge and understanding of the universe. Every race has that sort of inner racism. Even in the Ku Klux Klan I bet there's one member who resents another because he has a freckle

That's a weird pigmentation. The freckle. Makes you wonder if a leopard's just a tiger who didn't put on sunblock. The fact that freckle rhymes with heckle makes sense. Because what's the 2 characters associated with freckles (Howdy Doody and Wendy's) Not exactly the manliest of personas. Black rhymes with smack for a reason (Bobby Brown and Ike Turner)

I've Lost It

As my brain slowly begins to dissolve, I begin to grasp into the air for inspiration. Grasp Grasp. Oh what's this? A floating piece of lint. Lint why are you floating? Are you lost in life? Have you no focus? I told you Lint, you should've stayed in school, paid attention in Algebra class, gone to college and done something with your life. But you insisted that you'd work right out of high school and take a semester off. Now here we meet again Lint, let me guess..you're still at community college, working on your basics? Do you really even know what those are or is that what the lady who enrolled you into community college told you to tell people if they ever ask where you go to school? Lint, I know you thought the band would make it. I know you thought the short film you made on your cousin's camcorder would make you a star. I know your entire financial independence rested on your girlfriend's uncle hooking you up with that job at Sears. But Lint, you can chase potential or make something of your life. Maybe school's just not for you. It's not for everybody. But quit fooling me with your dreams of being big and famous and how you're not able to achieve it yet because you have too much stuff to take care of right now but if you could you would be famous. Let me guess, the world ain't ready for ya Lint? Lint I know everyone else sucks and they're all holding you back but at some point, buck up and do the right thing or else you'll end up floating on and on not realizing that you live such a sad existence. Ending up in that lint trap of life. Waiting for someone to open up the dryer, remove you, only to start all back over again. Don't go down that route Lint. I believe in you

And so does my sweater. Hug me

One:Fifty-Six

The King Kong trailer is online. I'll watch it just because you have to. I just remember when monster movies weren't supposed to be scary. Some Japanese guy in a lizard suit jumping up and down, knocking down planes attached to fishing line. Monster movies shouldn't be scary. Movies, in general, shouldn't be scary. Life is scary as is. I don't want a movie that makes me scared to whisper Candyman into a mirror. You know what we used to call that? A fun Friday night. Just ruin everything I love to do Hollywood. I eagerly await Freddie Prinze Jr. and Rose McGowan in

The Blog: No Entry Allowed

I just got a jury summons. That's right, America needs me. I'd love to stay and blog but I need to start preparing for what could be a grueling 2 weeks of testimony. I'm ready this time. I know what I need to say to get on a jury.

"I know nothing. I'm married, so I have no opinion of my own. Exploit my ignorance."

Most don't want to be on a jury, but people, I got blog entries to blog, jokes to jot, comedy to construct, ideas to ideologize. The only time I ever went to jury duty we were all stuck there for an hour because one of the people in the jury pool insisted that she knew the defendant from somewhere. It was like watching someone at their high school reunion, except this lady would not let it go. It was a murder case and after an hour of hearing her try to place his face, I just stood up

"Look lady, do you want him to murder you too?"

Well I would've said that but I was too busy eating the paint off the wall. It's strange what boredom will do to even the most normal of human beings. I don't condone any crime but if she had rambled on any longer, that whole jury pool would've bludgeoned her with our summons cards.

Coming this Fall
Jury Duty: Death Sentence

Embryonical Advice

I went to lunch with Herman from Human Resources. Great guy. Said that he and his wife are expecting a baby in December. Expecting a baby? Expecting, meaning you expect it to be human, but you won't be too surprised if it's like half-aardvark? Just give all pregnancy accomplishments to the wife. She's having a baby. You're just a bystander

It's been said that if you read to the baby while it's in the womb that it'll make the baby smarter. But isn't that assuming that whatever parent is reading is a good reader? I think it's really just one vicious cycle. Parent A stutters while they read to Fetus B. Fetus B becomes Parent B who's been stuttering their whole life. They try to read to Fetus C and so on and so on..

Don't read to your unborn baby. Because what if the baby doesn't like the book you're reading. Maybe Fetus C isn't a science-fiction fan, he's more about presidential biographies. It's like being stuck watching a TV channel cus there's no remote, everyone in the house is dead, and your pants were superglued to the La-Z-Boy

The book reading and the classical music can wait. You don't need to rush your kid into rich snob training. I think all these philosophies are the brainwashing brainstorms of the demons at Barnes and Noble corporate. So let me guess, don't feed your babies milk, just soy milk caramel macchiatos? What else oh mighty Barnes and Noble? No baby food, just cranberry crumb cake and biscotti?

My parents made me drink grape juice and watch Hee Haw. I came out just fine. Now time to write another self-indulgent blog.

Munchables.

I'm out to lunch. I'm thinking Taco Bueno. Who knows where my leased Honda will take me

See you back at one. Would you like me to bring you anything?

I Know People

Used to love the sack lunch. It's weird how innocent a brown paper sack is when you're 8. When you're 18? It's associated with dirty magazines and a 40 ounce.

I flew in from L.A on Sunday and halfway through there was so much turbulence. People were screaming and flipping out. I put them all at ease by frantically pulling out the In Case of Emergency card and cramming. I even called the flight attendant over to remind me again where the nearest exits were. I told the guy sitting next to the escape hatch that this ain't no dress rehearsal. It's showtime Passenger 57. At one point it was so shaky in the plane that the pilot got on the speaker and told us that that it was too dangerous for the flight attendants to walk through the aisles and check to see if our safety belts were on and our seats in the upright position. He said that he'd have us work under the "honor system" and we have to check our neighbors to see if they're in full compliance. That was the most unassuring thing a pilot could say. They pay those flight attendants to give everyone in coach a bad attitude. So they can come down that aisle as well, crawling if they have to. I'm not in charge of the security of this plane. I lost all chances of saving this aircraft when you confiscated my nail clipper at security check. You thought I was planning on giving myself a manicure? I keep it with me at all times incase a wire needs to be cut and re-routed. Yeah I got some pretty fingernails. But I'm Macgyver. Do you think this shaving cream is really shaving cream? It's potassium bicarbonate, otherwise known as fire extinguisher material. Some may think this is a normal cellphone, but who do I have on speed dial? That's right.

Wonder Woman

Nanoo Nanoo

Where are you going for lunch?

Lunch at a day job always reminded me of recess. The teacher would bring out the box of toys to pick from. That's like the choice of restaurants you have at 12pm. The difference is, never at recess did you have to play with the football because the other kid, who decided whether you passed the first grade or not, wanted to play with it first.

If promotions are given at a lunch or dinner meeting, what happens when you get demoted?

"Paul, I didn't bring you to the vending machine for a Snickers.."

War of the Worlds comes out today. The aliens are trying to rid the world of Tom Cruise. He's so annoying and overexposed that other planets are flying in just to nuke him. Thank you Zorbot the Mighty!

Aliens should take over this world. Then they could look out for all the rest of us aliens. Make my uncles who are illegal, legal. Or maybe we immigrants, who everyone calls aliens, are the real aliens. That's why Indians run all these internet servers and computer companies. Chinese people run all the restaurants. The rest of the Asians are doctors or lawyers. Hispanics do everything else. That's how we're taking over. Not by laser beams but by the American Dream

Mu-ha-ha-ha!

Soon puny earthlings, we will be taking over your comedy clubs as well. Come watch the revolution begin next Friday July 8th in Skokie, Illinois. Click here for tickets.

Indubitably? Indubitably. Delicious

Did you know they have jelly donuts in the break room?

I never really understood the bagel. It always came off to me as a very pretentious donut

"I don't need sugar or glaze to make me scrumptious. I'm fine being me. In fact if YOU want me to taste better how about YOU put something on me. Toast me. Cream cheese me. I'm fine just being me. But if you have trouble accepting that then that's on you. Cut me in half if you must, but what you're really cutting in half is your own integrity"

Plus bagels are all about the seeds. Why make an already dry food even drier? That's like putting breadcrumbs on a Frito. It's the bland, dry nature of a bagel that made someone invent the donut.

"You know what this bagel's missing? Taste."

Taste is important to food. If it wasn't God wouldn't've put taste buds in the mouth. There's sweet, salty, sour, and bitter. None of which are on an ordinary bagel. If a starving kid had the choice of a bagel or a donut which one would he pick? The donut. Guaranteed. Because afterwards he could lick his sugary-submerged fingers. You lick your fingers after a bagel? You're tasting skin.

I don't like breakfast where I have to make it taste better. Salt and pepper's one thing. But cutting you in half and spreading a topping on you? Who am I, Emeril? Toast may need jam or peanut butter, but I don't need to put scalpel to bread to make it toast. Mrs. Baird's saved me the trouble of such surgery. She even removed the crust. Now if she could just find a way to rid the world of those God-awful end pieces, I just might marry the bitch.

Temporaneous Thoughts

I was once fired from a temp job. Yeah, I was only supposed to be there for 2 weeks. One week in, they didn't like what they saw. I tried to explain that I was doing them a favor by putting away their files. They explained that they were doing me a favor by paying me. I agreed. They closed the door in my face. I stole their Post-It notes

The one week I was there, everyone in the office was so excited about Casual Friday. Whose company every saw such a dramatic increase in employee morale based off Casual Friday?

"Bill's become so much more efficient ever since we told him he didn't have to wear underwear on Fridays"

Casual Friday reminded me of junior high when we had shorts day. Everyone else in school was so excited because they got to wear shorts but my skinny legs were happy being hidden for so long. Now shorts day comes around and I'm once again Loser King because I'm the only kid who wasn't wearing shorts. You can tightroll your jeans as high as you want, it's not the same thing.

Not to say that I wouldn't enjoy wearing jeans or not having to wear a tie to work. But dress code was never my issue at a job. Cubicles, co-workers, and the daily delerium and dementia experienced were the bigger problemos.

Plus I don't like bosses. Love Boss Hogg. But who wouldn't love working for a bloated marshmallow with a southern accent? It'd make any job bearable

"Paul, ya got dat memo? I done need yer to get me dum der reports on muh desk or I'll have dem fellers down in payroll tan yer backside, now git! Yeehaw!"

I'm addicted to writing out all quotes in colored font. I really need to change up my style on this blog. This many blogs in, I'm Skittling out.

Anyone else check out the new redhead in Marketing?

I Don't Even Smoke

Ever fall asleep on the phone?

I did last night. No reason, just put on hold for way too long plus laid up on the couch equals Sleepy Slumber Time

Being drunk and being sleepy are so similar that I'd rather take the latter just because it's cheaper. I mean when I'm groggy I'm at a level of honesty only parallelled by 3 shots of Tuaca. Both conditions slur my speech. Both conditions when done in public cause other people to be concerned. Both conditions involve hallucinations, whether it's seeing double or dreaming. Both have substances that'll help you achieve said-so condition that much faster. One's trying to help you get laid - The other's a byproduct of getting laid. One involves passing out face up - The other face down. One is the Sandman - One is a reminder of why you're still single. Both will get you yelled at for doing it too much. The homeless need one before the other. Mix the conditions together and you have how I felt every Friday morning, in college, when I went to class

Blogging out ideas every 30 minutes is alot harder than I thought. I'm only 4 in and the well's running dry. Let this be a lesson to all you blogaroos out there. Writing out ideas this often can suck out a soul. Maybe I should just post pictures of my trip to L.A. or talk about my friends instead.

Nah. I'll stick to what I know. Maybe I'll feel rejuvenated after this smoke break.

Nine:Twelve Ay.Emm

I performed in a bar last night. Typical bar patrons. The drunk guy playing pool. The coked-up guy in the wifebeater. And amongst all that madness

A 2 year old

I normally have problems with people bringing their kids to any adult venue. We've done shows at comedy clubs where they'll bring their kids. There's certain places that kids just don't need to be. I'm not a dirty comedian but I don't agree with kids showing up to a place where adults frequent. Adults are at Chuck E. Cheese, but that's just because the kids can't drive themselves. If it was legal for a toddler to get behind the wheel, it'd be a Lord of the Flies atmosphere in there. Plus, the parking situation would be completely screwed. Infants can't stay inside the lines, whether it's coloring or parking

Maybe if the 2 year old was hideous, you could understand why they brought them.

"Yeah I brought my kid to a smoky bar, but look at this genetic concoction. Can you blame me? I'll buy a beer for you just cus you had to look at him"

But this 2 year old was adorable. She reminded me and all the other people in that bar what we once had

Hope

The NBA Draft was last night. I love watching it and realized last night that I'm watching other people get hired. We're watching people start careers. How come nobody televised my decision to be a comedian? I'd love to have cameras pointed at my parents when I announced my intentions to spread gigglicious cheer to the drunken masses. They're speechless. They grab a framed picture of my sister, silently thinking to themselves that 1 out of 2 ain't bad.

My sister's a priest. There's no profession that I could ever get that would top that. I know that when I finally do make it as a comedian. I've got 4 HBO specials under my belt. A highly successful sitcom. I'm a mover. I'm a shaker. My sister'll become Pope

Back to Plan B: Vegas Lounge Singer

I've Thought it Through

Brain juices are starting to flow, and I only sent out 2 personal emails on work time.

I'm heading out on a cruise tomorrow. Bahamas. I don't know what to expect because I've never done it. I have to do an hour of stand-up for two different crowds on Friday night. I'm looking forward to that, but I've been told that if you have a horrible set on a cruise, you're stuck with this audience that hates you for the next 2 days. So let's hope they dig me or else I'll have to jump ship or talk to the dolphins or hang with Isaac the bartender

If standup fails me, I'm gonna be a Vegas lounge singer. I'd sing this song.

Unbutton my shirt halfway through the first verse. Grab a lady's hand in the front row, brush my fingers along her left cheek and then move on to work the crowd. Lots of pointing my fingers at the elderly Jewish women, firing off fake gunshots. Hey it may be degrading but it's honest work. No one's getting hurt unless you count my self-esteem

My wife with the bleach blond hair would sit at the bar sipping her Kahlua Mudslide, smoking a Marlboro Light, playing a nickel slot machine, chatting up with Rex the bartender, clapping for me whenever she hears the song end, waiting for my show to be over so we can go hit up the crab leg buffet. She hears me about to start the big finale where we sing a duet. She adjusts her hair, puts out her cigarette, downs what's left of her Kahlua, and pitter-patters her high-heeled ass up there with me, grabs a microphone and we sing a ballad version of this song. Staring into each others' eyes, faking goo-goo-gah-gah faces at each other that were oh so sincere 28 years ago but have now just become stage fodder. Grab hands, a thank you bow to the crowd.

"We'll be back in 30!"

Now I must pray to God to make sure that all that never becomes a reality

The printer's out of toner.

Eight O'Clock ish

I'm up. 2 alarms made me do it.

So as stated before, this is the 1st ever Take your Blog to Work Day. This is where I (the full-time comic) wake up and blog away as if I was a member of the Responsible Real Job Community. Visions of 401K dancing in my head. It's blog entries every 30 minutes so it almost kinda feels like work minus the annoying co-workers and micromanaging

In order to feel like I'm trapped in a dead end-job I constructed my own cubicle out of posterboard from my old science fair projects. I'm also having my cousin walk in every 10 minutes and lean over my cubicle to bore me to death with his stories about last night. I don't drink coffee and drinking Dr. Pepper at this early in the morning just feels creepy.

The president had a speech last night. Now I'm not gonna get political on you, but he always has this weird lip quiver whenever he talks. Like he's about to laugh. I say Let it Out George. America could use a president who doesn't take his job, or himself, seriously. It'd be very Jimmy Fallon of him if every 3 minutes during his speeches he'd go

"And we will continue to spread the idea of democracy to nations that...I'm sorry..Anyone see that episode of Family Guy where he lies to get a welfare check?..He builds a moat around his house and..oh you just had to see it..that show kills me"

Well it's past 8:00 now and I was supposed to have this blog in by 8. My team leader a.k.a my Chia Pet will be very upset.

Oh by the way..Can I borrow your stapler?

A Blogspot.com First

So tomorrow I will have my first edition of Paulvarghese.com's Take Your Blog to Work Day. This will be a monthly event where I put myself in the shoes of you (people with legitimate jobs and insurance) and blog as if I was having a normal workday (8 to 5). Blogs every 30 minutes so you know I'm not sleeping at my cubicle. That's 17 blogs in a 9 hour span. Now considering that I've written 10 blogs in June up to this point, it's gonna be quite the feat.

Where my brain will take me three blogs in, I have no idea.

Thirteen? God help us all.

So see you tomorrow bright and early. I think I'm gonna call it a night...now

Drip Drip Drop

Why do I blog? Am I vain, arrogant, self-absorbed? Do I like to read what I wrote and do I think that everyone else is just as interested in what I consider insightful and funny?

Of course.

But I really do it because it's a mental exercise for me. I gotta keep the brain train chugging or I get lazy. The brain's like any other muscle. You have to work it out. Bloggercize people. Especially to the comics, it's the downfall of every comedian when they don't write. It's what keeps you fresh, original, and ahead of the game. A comedian who doesn't write? A clown

Yet another shark attack. Granted, this kid was fishing when he got caught, but how ironic is that? He's dangling bait not realizing, that to the shark, he's considered "dangling bait". Did the shark brag to his shark buddies

"I caught one this big! He got away but hey Frankie, flip over to CNN. It made headlines!"

Why do people even bother tempting fate in the ocean? The ocean's the most dangerous body of water. Lakes don't have sharks. Just drunken boaters. I'd rather take my chances with an inebriated jet-skier than a sharp-toothed mammal with a hankering for human flesh.

A puddle's even safer. Ever drown in a puddle? If you did, you're not reading this blog anyway. You're too busy rebuilding your anthill or sitting on Peter Pan's shoulder.

What the ocean does have is a beach. And with beaches come babes and babes are attracted to biceps, with which I have none. So no babes for me. I'll stick to the lake. And if I'm feeling extra lonely I may hit up the pond. Because ducks love crackers and I'm like Jay-Z to them when it comes to Saltines. I'm flinging them like dollar bills in a rap video.

I miss the days of playing in a sprinkler. Screw a pool party, turn on the hose. And where does hose water come from? Because it always tastes so much cleaner than any other water I've ever had. I'm not impressed that this bottled water's from France or this one is from a natural spring in Tibet. Let me read a label that says

"We've captured the clean, crisp taste of backyard plumbing and brought it to you. No lids. Just pinch it in half when you're done. From the people who brought you Easter grass and potpourri. We bring what's outside your backdoor, indoors. Hose-arka."

My Saturday

I'm heading to L.A this weekend to perform stand-up comedy at a wedding reception. Yeah yeah what's the big deal? Click on this

That's where I'm staying. Never knew that what my parents considered "a waste of college tuition" would wind me up in a 5-star hotel.

It's probably one of those hotels where they give you a bathrobe. I've never needed a robe. That whole transition from naked to fully-clothed never needed a step in-between for me. It's very Mr. Rogers if you think about it. Remember how he'd take his shoes off and then put on house shoes only to take the house shoes back off and switch back to the other shoes when he left? Ever heard of being barefoot Fred? I bet that's why Mr. Rogers never visited any of his Asian friends. (Shoes aren't allowed indoors)

How come Mr. Rogers' house never had a bathroom? No wonder he was always leaving at the end of every show. He had to run to the Exxon station down the street to take a whizz.

There was no bedroom either. No place where the ' magic happened '. His house would be the most boring edition of MTV Cribs. No wonder he invented the Land of Make-Believe. I'd think platypuses and royal families co-existed if I hadn't had any sleep for the last 2 weeks. Buy that man a futon and maybe he wouldn't have hallucinations about whistling trolleys.

Recently a comedian did a joke off my blog. That's a complete prick-like thing to do. I shouldn't have to send out the blog police on you, but do keep in mind that these are all copyrighted ideas. Just because you can read and memorize doesn't mean you thought of it. Use those skills to stand on a street corner with a megaphone and shout out Old Testament scripture

I hope that when I get to heaven, I won't end up rooming with televangelists. They're convinced they're gonna end up there and so am I. What if we both were right? I can barely stand them on tv and now that we're up in heaven, we gotta share bunk beds? What's so heavenly about that?

"Hey Benny Hinn! Could you pray to God to help you quit snoring? Sheesh, talk about making a ' joyful noise '. I'm out of here. I'm moving in with Santa!"

Here's My Story, Morning Glory

No surprise. I love cereal. Not the fiber-filled crap. I'm 28 not 88.

Sugary sustenance. The sugarier the better. Crunchberries without the yicky Cap'n'Crunch pieces? Well it's about damn time. Why can't Lucky Charms follow suit?

And when Veteran's Day approaches, remember not only your loved ones and those around us who have died for this country, but also remember those lesser known military figures whose work has gone unnoticed.

General Mills. He fought for truth, justice, and the right to cavity-creating cereals. Count Chocula - Frankenberry - Booberry? The only person with the foresight to soften up the image of monsters by making them marshmallowy. Whoever chose to hold the freedom of America back by denying us Cinnamon Toast Crunch...may they perish in the eternal flames of Hell or someplace almost as hott. Me and the kids of America salute you.

I adore Cookie Crisp. How bold were they?

"If you like cookies you'll love Cookie Crisp"

They didn't say

"If you like cookies, you'll enjoy the similar taste of Cookie Crisp"

No, they upgraded your emotion. No other breakfast cereal made that assertion.

"If you like fruit, you'll love Froot Loops"

No you won't. Because if you like fruit, you'd puke up a Froot Loop because there is no fruit involved and Froot Loops knows that because they don't even spell fruit correctly

"If you like rice, you'll hate Rice Krispies because they share none of the same qualities. You can't eat them with chopsticks, they taste horrible with jambalaya, and Uncle Ben doesn't endorse them"

The same goes for Corn Pops, HoneyComb, and Apple Jacks

I feel sorry for the disappointed pimp who fell for the commercial

"If you like tricks, you'll love Trix"

Silly Bitch-Slapping Rabbit! These Trix are for kids!

Day 2 Day

Whenever people find out that I do stand-up full time, they always say first "Wow. Congratulations. That's a big risk. I'm very impressed." then the next question is always "So I know you perform every night, but what do you do all day?"

7:30 Wake up
7:31 Realize that I'm a full-time comic, so why am I up this early?
7:32 Back to la-la-land
10:00 Bowl of Honeycomb, Price is Right, eagerly await Plinko
10:47 Scream at Price is Right contestant to pass on the first Showcase in the Showcase Showdown. Eat last piece of soggy Honeycomb because I got caught up during the mountain-climbing yodeling man price guess game
11:00 Email back the world and make a phone call or 2
12:00 Take a shower and wonder what it would be like to have a real job with real money with real health insurance, after wondering what that mysterious rash is on the back of my shoulder
12:20 Go back to e-mailing and maybe blog
1:00 Maury Povich is on and it's a new episode "Paternity Tests: We tested 10 men and none are the father"
1:05 After the 11th man who's tested ends up not being the father..begin to wonder if I could be the father
1:06 Wash away any doubts about my own promiscuity by bathing in ESPN.
1:20 Continue to second-guess my career after noticing another mysterious rash behind my left knee
1:21 Flip over to religious programming and pray about my itchy condition with Benny Hinn and that lady with the purple hair
1:30 Interrupted by a phone call from another local comic saying he's starting a new stand-up night in the back dining section of a Luby's cafeteria
1:31 Agree to perform at cafeteria, with hopes that I'll get paid in okra
1:33 Flip through my notebook to go over material I did the previous night and what I plan to do tonight
2:15 E-mail makes a return appearance
3:00 Call or text message around to see if other comics will be making it out to Luby's Comedy Night
3:15 Realize that I'm the only fool that is willing to do it and I'm now the headlining draw. Immediately flip through my notebook to look for squash casserole and banana pudding jokes
4:00 Go to get ointment for previously mentioned rash
4:20 Get recognized at Walgreen's by an incredibly hot blonde who's seen me perform at the Improv before and wonders where I'm performing next. I remain slick enough to not mention the upcoming Luby's performance but then she looks down and sees me buying rash cream and decides it's time to end the conversation. Another business card transaction wasted
4:45 Write a joke about rash cream
4:50 Scour nearby fast food place for their value "menu". Here's a hint: It's only a menu if a waiter hands it to you. It's not a menu if it's outside and has a speaker box attached
5:15 ESPN: I'm sorry I left for so long. I didn't mean to. I'll keep you company for the next hour
6:30 Go hang with friends until the "show" that night. Emphasis on quotation marks
9:00 Show's over. Only got called a "damn Iraqi" once. Got paid in sweet tea, tater tots, and blackberry cobbler
9:02 Call Sprint and find out that they don't accept food as currency
9:03 Alcohol calls and we have a great conversation until 2am

Night falls

Hong Kong Ah-Chooey

I wish it was easier to avoid annoying/irritating people instead of looking like a prick.

Seriously, wouldn't it be great if whenever an obnoxious person walked up to you.. one of your friends could walk right up to him and go

"Hey, he's allergic to drunken rambling. He breaks out in a rash."

People allergies. That's what I want. I'm irritated by certain folks but I don't have the hives or itchy sensations to warrant telling them to go.

Imagine having a conversation and then it gets boring..way boring..like

"Let me tell you about the novel I've been planning on writing for the last 10 years that will make me a star, but I don't have the ambition/discipline to put it on paper"

then you just start sneezing. Now they realize that you are allergic to mind-numbing chitter-chatter. They have to leave. Your nose is running, your tongue's swelling.

"Please stop talking! My sinuses are acting up!"

A temporary cold is much better than having find a diplomatic way to eject yourself from useless conversation

I say all this, but then if you think about it.. this blog entry is just useless written conversation.

Quit coughing and rubbing your eyes. Not funny when directed at me

Now that I've taken the option off in the "comments" section of my blog to where anyone can post without having to register, I'm being bombarded with quips by "Anonymous".

I love that guy. Anonymous. He wrote all that great poetry.

I've Got Thin Skin

Why do people still insist on asking me "Do you eat Paul? You're so skinny. Do you ever eat?"

"No. I don't. I've been on a hunger strike ever since they cancelled Small Wonder. Now will you leave me alone? I have to go get more signatures for my petition!"

I eat until I'm full. Half-eaten hamburger or not. I call it quits. I clock out. I have friends who believe that if you order a value meal at Taco Bell, you are now legally obligated to finish that entire meal, fake cheese and all. There's no food monitor, people. Nobody will rat you out. If you knew what they put into an Enchrito, you'd go to Taco Bueno.

I don't profess to know every secret to staying lean. But I do know this. Trying to take advantage of a buffet's "All You Can Eat" policy won't get you there. You're not "sticking it to the man" if you go back for 4ths or 5ths at Chong's Super Buffet. He knows that people will try to eat him out of business, which is why he uses kitten meat in his fried rice.

I'm glad I'm not super huge. It wouldn't look right on me anyway. I have a long, triangular face..so a big buffed body would be out of place. I'd look like a TV set with a piece of candy corn on top.

Plus I have a bad temper. Me with the muscles of the everyman? I'd pummel anyone who didn't let me into V.I.P. I think the smaller the guy you are, the more crazier you appear to others when you do lash out with your temper. Because then people begin to ponder...

1) Did he come here with a bunch of friends that can back him up
2) Is he carrying a weapon
3) Maybe he's well-versed in martial arts
4) Am I on an episode of MTV's Boiling Points
5) Does he have a bunch of friends that are carrying weapons and are well-versed in the martial arts who are pissed because they wasted the day watching a marathon of MTV's Boiling Points

A friend told me about ear candles. It involves lighting a candle to clean out ear wax. Lighting anything close to my skin never appealed to me. Which is why I'm still alive. The fact that someone took it upon themselves to invent such a thing means that there were fatalities involved in the creation/tweaking process. I was never a fan of fire. Someone actually said to me, "Wow Paul, you're afraid of fire!" Afraid has nothing to do with it. It's common sense

"Yeah, I'm afraid of fire just like I'm afraid of flying bullets. In fact my biggest fear is falling off a 23 story building. As soon as I can muster up the courage to jump off of one and not cry and anticipate my impending death, but just enjoy the freefall.. then maybe I'll be able to work on my other phobias. Venomous snake bites..Here I come!"

U.O. Me 2: The Return

Due to the responses I got off my last post, I decided to compose a follow-up blog entry, really a blog sequel.

I would never let a grudge consume me as to affect what I do for a living. I would never let the grudger get satisfaction through that. However, I am motivated by negative things. A grudge might as well be the theme to Rocky, 8 Mile, Laverne and Shirley

So with that out the way, don't cry for me Blogentinas. I'll be fine. It's all being channelled into jokes about moths, sherpas, and an escape pod in a pear tree

Today is officially the four year anniversary of my first ever time on stage performing stand-up. Last year's anniversary co-incided with me being on TV. This year finds me performing in a smoky bar with $2.00 Draft specials. Some may view that as a step back. I see every performance as a step forward. In the end, I'm doing what I love to do and could never imagine not doing it. All my friends are making great money. I'm broke. I should be homeless. But the passion for what I do, makes me want to keep doing it and doing it and doing it well (Shout-out to LL)

I think that may be the hardest thing for someone without a passion to understand. Yeah money's nice. But I've never had alot of money, so I can't imagine living with it. I've always had ambition and passion. And I've always valued that so much more. I have friends scrapping through their jobs because it's a paycheck. They're basically working towards a vacation. My career is my vacation. The last 4 years of my life have been the most exciting, rewarding, and fulfilling moments of my life because I'm doing what I love to do. Where it takes me? Who knows. But sitting in a cubicle and playing the "what if" game never appealed to me. It's easy to not chase after a dream and avoid failure. That way you can always sit around at a bar and tell your friends "Yeah I would be a comedian if I didn't have my day job." Failure scares all of us. But it's not even trying to chase the dream that scares me even more. If I fail.. I fail. But no one will ever say that I didn't give it my best

Now time to go heat up some Top Ramen

U.O. Me

I recently fell into a very uncomfortable situation. Let's see if you, the reader, can relate

I'm holding a grudge. Not in a bad way. Not like in an Indigo Montoya kind of way, but just in that I know I'm not in the wrong. So the grudgeholding will continue

What's the best way to unlock a grudge? An apology

But what happens when the apology hasn't come in so long that now that apology needs another apology? Almost like an apologetic appetizer.

Yeah all the sushi rolls were outstanding, but where's my Miso Soup?

The person in question had yet another opportunity to mend fences and couldn't drop the nuts long enough to fess up with the apology

So now the grudge just gets thicker. It's become sludge now really. I'm holding a sludge. If the person who owes the apology doesn't pay up, the interest will just keep adding up. It's like debt. You charge a little too much on your credit card and don't pay it all at one time, it seems to never end because the payments keep piling on, as does the interest. Now the credit card company is upset. They're calling you at work. They're sending you late notices. They're sludge holding

Call me Mastercard

I'm also Indian, which makes me Asian, which entitles me to hold a grudge forever. Have you not seen any Kung-Fu or Samurai movies? If that's too old school for you then rent Kill Bill

An apology is all I ask for. Make your full payment. Write the check. I'll cash it right there. Let's just hope you mean it..and it doesn't bounce

The Birds And The....

It's that time of year for my people. It's like the equivalent of watching Jackie Robinson play 2nd base for the Dodgers in 1947.

The Scripps National Spelling Bee

You'd swear this was a preview of A.P classes to come in 2012. I've never seen so many Indian kids in one place that weren't related to me. It brings a tear to my eye. It's the only time I can ever watch Indians on ESPN that weren't from Cleveland.

So here's to my fellow brown boys. Make me proud. Show those American kids that they may know how to spell "supercalafragalisticexpialadocious". But this ain't a Disney competition. This is reality, palefaces. See this God-given natural tan? It not only gets me accepted into U.T. Law School, it also gives me the ability to spell "oligopsony" and "kiss my chocolate ass"

Please people, let me brag for just one day. You have the other 364 to make fun of us. But today, June 2nd, is my people's day of glory

Bring the gold home fellas

Tibet or not Tibet

I watched this movie called The Last Supper. Interesting subject for debate. Should you kill someone if you sincerely believe that because of their views/opinions that they would be a detriment to society? The main argument they go back to is wouldn't the world have been a better place had someone killed Hitler before he began his maniacal reign?

Good to debate. But that's not what this blog is for. Let's ramble about the unnecessary

I want to be a monk. Not now, but in several years. I'm intrigued by the idea of not being able to speak for years on end. Perhaps it would be even more difficult to maintain a Vow of Silence in this country, as opposed to the hills of Tibet, because if I was to do that here, I'd just be considered a prick. Wearing an orange robe would make others think I was a Hari Krishna, and I wouldn't be able to yell at them as they try to avoid me

"Hey hey, come back! I'm just a monk! I have no religious literature or tambourines! I chant and hum and occasionally brew beer depending on where in the world my monastery is located! I'm not even supposed to be yelling, or even whispering for that matter! And I shouldn't be running this fast with my robe flapping in the wind! We're required to go commando! Don't laugh! I may not be able to talk but I am allowed feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment! I didn't take a Vow of No Tears!"

You can't be a monk in the U.S. especially in the city. No trees to meditate under. Is it still Buddha-istic to find internal peace underneath the patio umbrella at Starbuck's?

So it looks like I'll have to venture overseas to make my dream come true. I always wonder when exactly does the Vow of Silence actually begin? Is there a ceremony? Or is it understood that you don't say a word the second you walk up to the monastery?

Because let's just say that there is a Vow of Silence ceremony. Now they have you raise your right hand and when they tell you all the tenets you must abide by in order to be ordained into monkhood, do you say "Gotcha!" or just a thumbs up? Because what if they're waiting for you to say something and you don't and now the rest of the monks think you're a prick too? And in the ceremony are the monks even allowed to talk to inaugurate you? Or is it a laborious game of Charades?

"Do you guys still teach those Chant classes? Or is that strictly a spring semester course?"

These are all questions I need answered. Now don't post me links or Google something for me. I can do that on my own. I need to experience these things myself.

It'd be hard to end a relationship by telling her that you're becoming a monk. Talk about giving her a complex. You left her to take a Vow of Celibacy? Ouch. Plus she'd be thinking that "Obviously our conversations were so arrogantly annoying and trivial that you never want to talk to ANYBODY again."

Ouch squared

Oh if you wanna comment on my blog, you now don't have to register a blog account just to say something. It's open for everyone. Keep it clean. Flatter me. Be funny.

2 out of 3 will suffice.