Gather 'Round

Someone told me a story of irony that I thought I should elaborate on. Come on, it's a fun little game and it starts .. right .. now

She saw a truck hauling a load full of tires. Then, lo and behold, the truck got a flat.

"How convenient" , she thought.

To which I responded,

"It could've only gotten more convenient had the truck swerved off the road and into a hospital."

" .. And then maybe the bricks of the hospital collapsed onto the engine, breaking it so as not to overheat. As the nurses pull the driver out of his car, his driver's license and medical insurance card have fallen out of his wallet. The driver's so panicked by the accident that he goes into a state of shock, and, therefore, doesn't need anesthesia to pass out. Also the fact that he's passed out prevents him from remembering that he's gonna get fired and laughed at when he gets back to work

Back at the tire-hauling factory, Ring-A-Ding-Bring-Bring, they just took out insurance on that truck, after years of scraping by the law. They were also looking to fire the driver, Bocephus, and this just gives them every reason. Not for being careless, but the guy who drove the truck before had left a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the glove compartment and you can always pin the accident on that

Meanwhile outside the hospital, the tires have fallen off the truck, and a few select ones rolled themselves onto a nearby playground, where sandbox activities have now become cumbersome. No swings because someone tore them .. until one kid sees the tires and improvises. Another kid stacks the tires and jumps in, peeking his head out.

"I'm the Michelin Man", he proclaims.

One girl, Sue Shooby Doo, loves a man with a sense of humor, but doesn't know it just yet, because she's only 6. Twelve years from now when the "Michelin Man" asks her to prom, Sue Shooby Doo accepts. Cupid has shot his bow and arrow of love into their collective asses. Babies are made

Flash back just a few days prior and peek into Bocephus the bad truck driver's home, and you see his disgruntled wife, Glendalyn. She's told him time and time again that he needs to get corrective lenses and quit squinting at the damn tv.

"You can't tell which one's Bob Barker and which one's Larry the Cable Guy!", she hollered from the kitchen.

At that time he muttered under his breath, "That lady's turning into her mother", not aware that she was correct in her assessment.

He sporks away at his Swanson tv dinner and wishes he was "anywhere but here". That horrible Natalie Portman movie comes on TNT. He chokes on a brownie bone

Flash forward 5 months later. Glendalyn walks into a courtroom to testify in the case of "Ring-A-Ding-Bring-Bring versus Bocephus Twitty" On the witness stand, she re-iterates the numerous incompetent things Bocephus had done in their last 8 months of marriage, from using the babys' diaper money to add a chimney onto their trailer to bringing home extra tires, from work, to burn so he could get high off the rubber fumes. Ring-A-Ding-Bring-Bring's boss testifies as well and their common thread of hatred towards Bocephus brings them together. They meet up for Burger King after the trial. Cupid bucks off some shots into their butt cheeks. More babies are born"

This entire conversational rant lasted two rounds of drinks

So I guess what I'm trying to say folks is .. Check your car before you ever take it driving. Because when you don't, stories like this become a reality. Thank you very much. I'm so glad I just wasted your time.

Insecurity Blanket

I'm three days away from my high school reunion. Should I go? Should I stay? It's the same dilemma I faced 10 years ago when prom rolled around. I had no date so I didn't go. I don't regret it, but the fact that I didn't go was like a microcosm of my entire high school experience. I just don't want to get laughed at. Am I living in the past? Not at all. That being said, I do need to make sure before I drive up there, to wash off the remaining shoe polish off my back window and take off the Seniors'95 tassel hanging from my rearview.

Grosse Pointe Blank's one of my favorite films. I'd like to think I'm a little Cusackian with how I view this whole thing. I can actually only hope that my reunion is just as eventful. Not by people recognizing me, but I'm hoping to go to my old locker and kill a guy in the hallway.

Back to my inner turmoil: You can't enjoy your future without recognizing your past. I recognize my past. Doesn't mean I think it's attractive or charming. Funny in a depraved way. But if my past were a woman? I'd never date it. It knows too much about me. It has pictures.

The main worry is that going back there will bring back feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that I haven't experienced since ... Thursday

And I've always been told that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. It builds character. I've got so much character built, I could write my own Star Wars Trilogy. I've got Jabbas and Chewbaccas full of character. This whole experience will be an exercise in futility. And the last time I checked my futilitic muscles were doing just fine. I didn't need to tone up my futes. In fact I get the most compliments on what a nice futeous maximus I have.

I got it from my mama

I thought about bringing my yearbook to the reunion. You know, to get all the signatures I didn't have the nerve to ask for. I got confidence now. I can walk up to the hot girl from my 1994 English Lit Class and ask her to sign my annual. I can do that. I've grown. Remember me? I got confidence and character now .... and more importantly, a blog.

Whenever I get into a relationship, I like to give the girl a cute nickname ... like NBC or HBO. That way whenever she calls me and I have to take the call ..

A) I don't look whipped
B) I look like I'm an important somebody

"Hey NBC! Pardon me guys, it's NBC, I have to take this call"

"Wow, Paul's always talking to NBC. They want him so bad they call him at 2 in the morning. It must be important"

Sir Nap-A-Lot

So if you haven't been to the homepage of my website then you're really missing out. Scroll down and look towards the southwest side of it. Those were sent to me by a friend of mine, so if you have pictures of your co-workers behaving the same way, feel free to e-mail me through my website, and each month I'll post them on my site. Then we can all laugh at their incompetence and narcolepsy together.

I shouldn't pass judgement because I myself have visited slumberland at the assorted jobs I've held. In fact I once got fired from a temp job because I dozed off at my cubicle. Do you understand? Fired from a temp job

"Yeah Paul, you weren't supposed to be here a long time and now we don't even want you here that long"

It's that cubicular boredom that prompted me to try stand-up comedy. I mean how bored do I have to be to just fall asleep onstage? The chances are slim. I didn't get into stand-up comedy to express myself creatively, to entertain the masses, or to destroy the South Asian stereotypes that pervade society. I'm telling jokes because it's the one thing I know I won't fall asleep doing

From now on if you want to leave comments you have to register with blogspot.com. You don't have to create a blog but just register a screenname (Don't worry Indian people, it's free to sign up). I had to go back to only letting registered users leave comments because in the last few days my blog was being swamped with spam advertisements.

"I enjoyed your blog. Come check out mine. I have a great rundown on the perks of Sears aluminum siding"

No thank you. Spam mail is annoying and pestering. They're like the internet homeless.

"Hey..Excuse me sir..Would you like to reunite with your high school classmates?
Hey..Pardon me..Have you ever tried Cialis?"

The closest thing we have to getting in our car and leaving or pepper spraying those bastards is to block them by only allowing registered users. So here's to hoping that I never have to experience their spamhandling every again.

I'll blog to that.

In Memory of VH1's Pop-Up Video

Cue "Flashlight" music

So when we last left Paul.. he was on his way to D.C and then New York. Let's find out what happened

(Bloop) George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic also had a song called "Chocolate City", the nickname for Washington D.C (Bloop)

D.C involved a missed flight (because of oversleptedness), some really bad orange chicken from Manchu Wok, a great crowd and an afterparty that included a shot of Grand Marnier (never ever do that) and me being asked to get off of a sofa.

(Bloop) When Paul gets slightly inebriated, he stands on furniture: tables, chairs, hammocks. Nothing is sacred (Bloop)

I never got to see anything D.C is known for. No presidents, no monuments. If D.C stood for Deranged Crackheads, I saw plenty of those. They were in abundance. Like body odor at the DMV. The whole weekend was put together by the guys over at www.desivision.tv. They're just starting out and could use the support a.k.a viewership. They taped the show and will be showing a few clips in months to come.

(Bloop) Another internet tv show came out to film a show Paul did down in Texas, www.asianlivetv.com, and that footage will come out in a few months (Bloop)

So we truck it (actually Honda Civic) it out to New York the next day. It's at this moment that I fall asleep in the car. I'm an ugly sleeper. The kind of sleeper where people take pictures and point and giggle and tell anyone within earshot of my putrid display of nighty-night time. I don't really have the mouth open thing as much, moreso than the eye open thing going on. I know. Creepy. In this case, the eyes were half open, pupils rolled up, so all you see is the whites of my eyes, ala Method Man in Bring the Pain, or any zombie movie ever made. I have no control over that. I don't choose it. According to the internet, it can be caused by intoxication or heredity or scarring of the eyelid. Intoxication might be it. It ain't heredity. But I do have scarring on my eyelid.

(Bloop) Paul had surgery to fix his eyelid when he was 6. When he awoke from it, he cried like a little bitch (Bloop)

When I was in college, I found out how to doze off while listening to a Physics 1080 lecture by staring at the chalkboard. I've had some of my best naps when in lecture halls. In fact I want to be so rich one day that I can afford a tenured professor to stand at the foot of my bed every night and explain to me inertia and Schroedinger's equation.

I tried to defend myself to the fellow car passengers

(Bloop) They vowed amongst themselves that the next time it happened, they'd Kodak the moment (Bloop)

I told them it was my way of keeping my eyes on them while still catching some well-deserved sleepy time. They weren't buying it. I even referenced Metallica's "Enter Sandman". Still didn't buy it. I hung my head in shame..and to sleep again without them giggling at me.

Cue "Funkytown"

I make it to New York successfully, meaning no photographic evidence of my sleep habits.

(Bloop) The song "Funkytown" was written about New York City. It was also featured in Shrek 2 (Bloop)

I get to hang with folks I haven't seen in awhile, including my friend Tara. I met her at my friend's wedding a few months ago.. and since I'm throwing so many links into this blog I might as well plug his site as well, www.anilv.com

(Bloop) If you scroll through his archives, you'll find a link of Paul's performance on Last Comic Standing, doing the Boogeyman joke. Check out the french blue sweater (Bloop)

So Tara and I have a weird connection. She was also on reality tv and maybe I shouldn't mention it, but she never said I couldn't, so Bloop away

As you wish Paul..
(Bloop) If you keep scouring through www.anilv.com you'll also see previously mentioned Tara on MTV's Boiling Points (Bloop)
Back to you Paul

Thank you Bloop Boy. So New York was great. Crowds were incredible and laughs were had. Final count: Two satisfied audiences, One drag queen dj, two men making out, two Ketel One's and 7, and some chicken and rice, courtesy of an NYC street vendor

Time to go watch The Aristocrats. A movie that only comics would enjoy. For another one of those kinds of movies, rent Comedian with Jerry Seinfeld

(Bloop) It'll show you the background of what a comedian is all about. I like this movie alot. Wait, as Bloop Boy, I'm just supposed to lay down facts, not opinions. Gotta go (Bloop)

Synapse Crackle Pop

Just when I begin to lose hope in all mankind, people amaze me. I never realized how thoughtful we've become as a nation and how caring and considerate we are until I got robbed this weekend, and right after the criminal took all my money, he handed me a comment card

WHEN I POINTED THE GUN AT YOUR CHEST, HOW WOULD YOU RATE YOUR FEAR?

1) Not scared at all
2) Fairly scared
3) Somewhat scared
4) Wet myself

Cool thing was, the survey was anonymous. All I had to do was call a 1-800 number and they entered me into a drawing to win my money back.

I'm headed to D.C and New York this weekend for a couple of shows. Never been to D.C. They call D.C "Chocolate City" because there's so many black people there. But you put a bunch of Indian people in one place in America it's called "FBI Alert"

Let's be honest, Indians/Pakistanis/Sri Lankans/Bangladeshis a.k.a South Asians, we're the real meaning of chocolate. We're lighter skinned than most black people. I'm not called black, I'm called brown and when you think of chocolate you think of Nestle Crunch, Milky Way, not Hershey's Dark Special. I'm just saying let's put the label where it belongs.

See this skin of mine? Milk Chocolate:Yoo-Hoo:Eskimo Pie
Wesley Snipes? Licorice: Yager: Beef Jerky

I was talking to a fellow blogger, and we got on the topic of why we blog. I do it to whet my creative appetite and to conjure up material for my act. He blogs.. and I quote, "For shits and giggles"

Shits and giggles? Do those even go together? Because I've never done both at the same time

Did you hear that?
A joke was born.
And it's all mine, so don't touch it. Hands off. Get your own.

Sappy Paul is No More

The more I read that last post about my parents' anniversary, the more my blood sugar rises. I've gone soft. I'm doughy. Chock full of nougat and kittens

BANG! BANG!

Good.. There. That won't happen again.

Have you ever stared into the barrel of a shotgun and second-guessed your decision to run naked through a Ku Klux Klan meeting?

Some blame it on their racist views, I think it's just cus it was Monday. Those are never fun for any organization, regardless of location or racial bias

I've become addicted to Cookies 'N' Cream. Why the "N" instead of "And"? That's the only time that that country ass abbreviation is ever used. Did a farmer concoct it?

"I made a new dessert by combining cookies 'N' cream! Quick Merle, go tell your brother 'N' sister!"

The best example of product denial is the fact that all ice cream companies refuse to acknowledge the type of cookie in Cookies 'N' Cream. We all know. Everyone's eating it, knowing what they're eating. Just quit being so stubborn and embrace the cookie that's in the cream. Oreo and/or Hydrox would be so happy.

I'm glad we get the brilliance that is Oreos 'N' Cream (Call it this from now on people. The revolution begins today) I'd hate to be the taste test guinea pig when they were still in deliberations on which cookie to dunk in cream.

Gingerbread? Sugar? Those pink ones with the dots on them? Those nasty butter cookies my mom always bought and ended up using the empty tin can to store her Indian cookies? (By the way, there's no such thing as an Indian cookie. They either call them sugar biscuits, or they make them so brittle and crunchy, they'll cut your gums upon entry)

Indians make chips out of fruit. Jackfruit chips, banana chips. I love the United States, we make chips out of potatoes and fat. In fact if that isn't disgusting enough, we're still trying to invent new flavors to further tempt you. Salt and vinegar is a flavor. That's what the Romans put on a stick and fed to Jesus while he was on the cross. I'm guessing he ain't picking up that bag of Lay's anytime soon. He strikes me as a sour cream and onion kind of savior.

Doritos has 9 different flavors. Why? No other chip company has successfully copied their nacho cheese recipe. I would've shut down the product development department of Doritos 20 years ago and lived off that one recipe alone. I'd use the money saved to advertise on bags of weed all across the country. Coupons on nickelbags equals me on the Forbes Top 100 list.

I'm a hustla baby.

Let's Slow Things Down for a Bit..

So after a lackluster month of blog updating for July, I've recommitted myself to the cause. Someone told me I should do updates on the shows I perform at, kinda like a road journal of sorts.

Nah. Don't think so. Who wants to hear about penthouse suites, hot tubs, and champagne flutes? Who wants to know that the life of a comedian on the road is very similar to that of a rap video? Who wants to know that the status of a comedian in any town across America is the equivalent to Anthony Kiedis of Red Hot Chili Peppers strolling thru your villa?

I do. I wish. T'will never be

It's Holiday Inn. Remote bolted to the nightstand. 75 cent Dr. Peppers from a vending machine. The equivalent of Snow passing through your abode. Snow from "Informer" fame.

My parents celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary yesterday. Thirty five years is a long long time. I've been around for 28 and I'm sick of myself. If I had to guess how they made it work, I'd say it's because they're complete opposites

My mom's the talker: My dad listens
My mom's the laugher: My dad's the one that makes her laugh
My mom cooks: My dad eats
My mom's a woman: My dad isn't

But they're similar in the one area that they need to be. They're both stubborn when it comes to decisions. There's no flakiness or wishywashyness between them. They either like you or they don't.

One of the many things I adore them for is the fact that they've never felt the need to be the most popular people in the Indian community. That's what our community is known for. People wanting to feel like they're famous or everyone knows them or that they have the most friends. The perfect example is the size of weddings that Indians have. It's a yearly competition to see which couple can have the most people at their wedding or even anniversary. And to be fair, alot of times it's not the couple's decision to overload the church with six degrees of separation, it's the parents'. But my parents have never been that way. They never felt validated by the number of people around them. They knew that there was no way that that many people really gave a damn about you. They rested easy in the fact that they could have a handful of sincere, close friends and family around them. They know life is not about how many friends you have but who those friends are.

Life isn't high school. My parents aren't running for Homecoming King and Queen. My dad has no aspirations to be Senior Class President, and my mom isn't about to start making cupcakes and buttons to aid in his campaign.

My sister and I have subconsciously adopted that same mindstate. Both of us are in the public eye, so we have alot of acquaintances, but there's only a small group of people that we actually allow to be a part of our lives. To me, it's the way to go. I have friends who love the idea of being popular. Popular is not all it's cracked up to be. Popular's only fun when you have the unpopular to make fun of. At least that was the motto at my high school.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad Varghese.