A Maple Minute

Ever been sifting through your change and find that one Canadian coin? It has a maple leaf on it. But thing is .. you never went to Canada. None of your friends went. You don't even own ginger ale.

I had a clerk refuse my Canadian coin. Really? You're going to wait for me to find a legitimate American one-cent piece? How about you grab one from the Take a Penny Leave a Penny ashtray by your register. You Take a Penny, I'll Leave a Maple Leaf

So how did that Canadian coin make it this far? He's on the run I tell you. He's crossing borders for job security. He's on his way to Mexico, where he'd actually have value.

The Supreme Court nomination hearings are officially over. Samuel Alito went through 18 hours of intense testimony.. and people make such a big deal about it. Why? I go through that every single time I visit my parents

"Are you eating? Are you brushing your teeth? What's your stance on gay marriage?"

I'm not impressed by the power of the Supreme Court. I want to be a judge on the Belgrande Court . I'll pay my dues at the 7-Layer Court and then work my way up through the Double Decker ranks.

Court fees? 99 cents

I watched a little bit of American Idol last night. Heavily disappointed. I love watching horrible singers. Because I identify.

Let's televise stonings. Rock-hurling punishment. Throw Osama Bin Laden in the middle of Texas Stadium. $50 to get in. Available on Pay-Per-View. Have Brett Favre come out and throw the first stone. Maybe also have a pebble undercard. You know, someone who doesn't deserve a complete stoning .. like Tom Cruise. Just enough pebbles thrown at him, to get all up in his shoes and be annoying. And for those of you who think watching a few episodes of people being pelted to death would get old after awhile, I propose to you..

Season 2: Celebrity rock-tossers a.k.a Stoning with the Stars

Phone Home

What's the difference between a telemarketer and a stalker?

$10.75 an hour

After numerous unanswered calls, you'd think a telemarketer would get the hint. It's not like 10 calls in, I'm going to answer the phone.

"Oh hey Sprint. No, I've just been busy, I'm not ducking you. No, I swear there's nobody else. What. You don't trust me? I've just been busy with this whole standup and blogging thing. I promise, we'll hang out, just wait until my schedule loosens up."

Sometimes the telemarketers will try to get slick and change their number to "Out of Area". Yeah, because that would make me want to answer now .. out of sheer mystery. If an ex-girlfriend called me as often as a telemarketer does, I'd have enough evidence to file a restraining order. I'm just waiting for that one telemarketer to write me a love letter out of magazine fonts or sit outside my bedroom window .. and I'm on the 3rd floor, so that would require scaffolding (the true sign of a determined stalker)

And I can handle all that, just please please please Sprint don't pull a Say Anything and stand in that scaffolding, boombox held over your head, Destiny's Child's "Bills Bills Bills" streaming out the speakers.

Does telemarketing even work any more? Has anybody ever bought anything or paid a bill immediately because of a phone call? Life was easy for the telemarketer before Caller ID. But now because of Caller ID, telemarketers have become the Jehovah's Witnesses of the telecommunication world .. and Caller ID's the peephole

Black Monday

It's 1:48 p.m and I just took a shot of Jager. Black liquorish. The taste and the effect. Now I know you ask, why a shot in the middle of the day? And to you, I say WHY NOT ? I also say, WHAT WAS I THINKING ?

To understand someone, you must walk a mile in their shoes. To understand an alcoholic, you must stagger a quarter-mile in their bare feet.

I made it to the kitchen.

Anyone have any good JagerMeister stories? Please share. It's the most brutal shot. For those who don't know, it has the taste of black licorice with ten thousand times the kick. The most I can take is two. One time I took three. And coincidentally I also took half a bottle of Advil 20 minutes afterwards. You know something is completely disgustable (that shot's kicking in) when you can't even smell it, let alone watch other people drink it. I hate mushrooms, but I have no problem watching folks down a Portobella.

I think the common denominator is never drink or eat anything black. Licorice: Jager: Peppercorns: Jellybeans: Lexington Steele

Presi-Dental

You ever drink so much, you get a voicemail from your liver?

"Paul, I know you don't pick up calls from "Out of Area" but the fact of the matter is, I'm "Inside your Area". It's me. Your liver. Your kidneys and I have been talking and we really feel that an intervention is necessary. We're both working overtime without pay. I'd hate to go on strike because I know you have no health insurance, which is why I'd rather voice my concerns now, then surprise you later."

It was a 1-800 number so I called it back.

"The number you have reached has been disconnected"

And immediately after that, I passed out

I should've called back immediately, but I waited a few hours too long, fainted, and woke up with a Dear John letter scotch taped to my stomach. So anyone with an extra internal organ laying around, FedEx it my way. I've got an hour until I'm gonna have to start drinking a 40-ounce of NyQuil: The NightTime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, so you can function throughout your day without your liver ,medicine

Truth is, I don't drink very often. In fact, drunk Paul's as rare as Sasquatch. Meaning when I do get boozed to the hilt, I run through the woods and scare early morning hunters. There's also a home video out there of me in my inebriated glory, but it's blurry and you can't really tell it's me.

I do eat alot of Cheetos and Twix. And there's not a whole lot of alcohol in either of those. There is plenty of sugar. But unlike alcohol, you never regret eating too much sugar the next day. The only time you regret it is when your dentist gives you a guilt trip on your visit. I feel guilty for that moment, but the second I leave the dentist's office, I'm downing candy with my newly clean teeth. It's like getting a new car every six months. When they clean your teeth, it's like a brand new odometer. Pixie Sticks, Nerd Rope, Inside-Out Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are the equivalent of driving to Oklahoma and back just for the hell of it

I get paranoid during the x-ray process because the dental assistant throws the lead vest on you then leaves the room to press the button? That's assuring. I'm gonna douse you in radiation from afar, ENJOY! It's for that reason that I think it should've been so much easier to know if Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. Just look for the guy with 12 fingers and a 2nd face growing out of his ass. Then follow him to his house. Chances are, he lives somewhere close to where Saddam and friends are cooking up nuclear concoctions.

I should be President. I just need to find a First Lady first. You can't be a single President. Well you could. Because then ABC would probably have their best version of "The Bachelor" ever. But how un-professional would it be to have meetings with the Israeli Prime Minister and then, later on that night, go out clubbing?

"Is that President Varghese with his arm around Jessica Alba? Play on playa President! That guy gets all da' hoes!"

6th Scents

I was watching one of those late-night infomercials where the selling point is they'll offer you a free 30-day trial.

You're paying for my court fees? Complimentary legal representation? Because there's a speeding ticket I'd love to fight. Wait, let me ask you this .. Will the jury be sequestered?

So not only will I receive my Ronco Rotisserie Oven for three easy payments of $34.99, I'll also be featured on Court TV. Thank you Ron Popeil

Congratulations go out to UT for winning the national championship. I graduated from UNT (University of North Texas) A party school. We were never known for our athletics. Our rivals were the cops. I know guys who graduated just so they could use their diploma paper to roll the biggest joint in the world.

"I'm going for my Bachelor's Degree and the Guiness world record"

UT has the Longhorns. Florida State has the Seminoles. We're the Mean Green. You tell me our founding fathers didn't love to smoke out too.

I get to perform at UNT this Monday. My triumphant return to my alma mater. Well as triumphant as you can get, driving a Honda Accord. Going back to your college stomping grounds doesn't ever come across as creepy as going back to your high school to pick up your yearbook.

I don't know if I'm such a glowing endorsement for going to UNT. Here I am, back at the school. I graduated with a degree and ended up being a comedian. Now let's just hope that UNT doesn't look at me with disappointment like my parents did.

The Day After

I have cupcakes and alcohol in my bloodstream
And someone actually bought a gift for ME

I love the lines people give when YOU get them a gift

"I can't believe you spent that much money on me?"

"I didn't. I stole it. So make sure you don't break it because I didn't steal a receipt"

Sometimes you'll get this line when they give you a present

"Hey before I give you this, just know that I'm not into wrapping gifts."

I'm not into wrapping gifts either, especially when I bought them 10 minutes before the party.

"Hey before I give you this, just know that I'm not into wrapping gifts. I'm also not into taking the price tag off or removing it from this Best Buy bag"

How did Santa Claus just happen to use the same wrapping paper that my mom had in her closet? It's like he wanted to throw me off by having me think that my parents were the ones buying the gifts. He even took the time to learn how to sign his name with my dad's handwriting. Sometimes Santa would give me clothes for Christmas, but I think that was my parents just trying to compete with St. Nick. I aint falling for that. My love for the jolly red-suited man will never falter no matter how many lime green sweaters with matching tube socks you buy me.

Birthday Suit

Dyan Cannon
Tom Thumb
Louis Braille

All were born today.

- Dyan Cannon's not really known for a whole lot, much like myself. Most people know her as a fixture at Lakers games. Not that I wouldn't want to be known as that kind of celebrity either.

"Hey did you check out that new Dyan Cannon movie? Yeah, neither did I."

- Tom Thumb's a grocery store icon now, but he had nothing to do with that. He was a sideshow midget for Ringling Bros. circus for oodles of years. I'm sure he, nor his family, get a royalty check from the Tom Thumb grocery store chain for using his name. They probably don't even get a Rewards card. Hey can we atleast hook the Thumbseses with a coupon? Hook a mini-brotha up!

I once read that Don Shula had the same birthday as me. He's the all-time winningest coach in NFL history. Not that I had anything to do with that, but I'd like to think that if I were to roam an NFL sideline, I'd have a cosmic, predestined advantage that other coaches didn't, because we share the same birthdate. Either that or the advantage may not be NFL related. Instead I'm better off mooching for floor tickets for the Mavs games or in a circus cage getting hit on by the Bearded Lady.

- But Louis Braille? Now that's impressive. Not that he was conceived on the same date, because folks, I was born premature. 2 weeks to be exact. In fact, as my mom likes to say

"That was the only time you were ever early"

Braille invented a reading system for the blind. If you lose your fingers in a woodchipper, they don't have footballs or baseballs specially designed for you to throw. No, if you want to be on a sports team, with no fingers, then your job is relegated to hi-fives and pats on the ass

Who has the insight to think ..

"I know they can't see. But who are we to deny them the right to Where the Sidewalk Ends? They deserve to know what happens when Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout does not take the garbage out"

I can only hope that when my life becomes a memory that I leave some sort of legacy. Some contribution to humanity besides a joke about Wheres' Waldo.

I propose contributing my facial hair. I've seen a rash of Hispanic males and middle-aged Vietnamese men who can't seem to grow full on moustaches. They have 20 hairs all trying to band together to look like one. Yet these guys insist on making it work. I'll fill in their blanks with the grizzle that the Teen Wolf God up above cursed me with.

I shave at 10. My 5 o'clock shadow shows up at 10:15. So when I hear a woman go

"I don't like men with facial hair."

I think..

"Wow, we have so much in common, because I don't like women with facial hair either"

So as I embark into the last year of my 20s, it's time to brace for the 3-0. I've heard life begins at 30 and then gets better at 40.

Life beginning at 30 would be a creepy conception. To have moms giving birth to 30 year old adults. Coming out of the womb with the right to vote, drink, and rent a car? It'd make life in an incubator fly by if I could chug down a few vodka tonics.

"Mom, does Similac cure a hangover? Oh and don't worry about pushing me in a stroller, I'll just go for a spin in the Escalade."

Bessie Wants Out

Last week I was in Poland and my sneakers got dirty. So I had to buy shoe polish. In Poland. I bought Polish shoe polish. I said that ten times fast, and my dictionary melted

....

29 years ago this day, my mom's contractions were getting closer and closer. My dad was working overtime at Kroger to stash up more money. And my sister was counting down the days to where she would no longer be the baby of the family and have to fend for herself.

Me? I was chilling in the Womb O' Varghese. Nice climate. Steady, although redundant, meals. But in the end? Lonely. Very lonely. And I had stuff I wanted to do. Friends I wanted to make. Jokes I wanted to tell.

So three weeks before I was scheduled to make my entrance into society, I started kicking. And kicking. And I think that's the most energy I've exerted, even to this day.

...

If you're reading this and you're in Dallas, like me, then you're absolutely loving the weather we're having right now. We had two cold days so far, way back in November, and right now it's 75 degrees. In January. Maybe this is the beginning of the whole global warming phenomenon. And maybe because of that, weather all around the world is being permanently altered.

And I, for one, am so happy.

I knew there was a reason that Texas women used 40 oz. cans of hair spray to hold up their bee-hive bouffant Lady Bird Johnson hairdos. Others called it pollution. They looked at their aerosolic abuse as a long-term investment for our happiness. And because of their insensitivity towards anything environmental, I salute them.

Now let's all celebrate by refusing to carpool and chopping down a Peruvian rainforest.

Deuces Gone Wild

So I hope everyone's still hungover and happy (from the New Year). The two don't normally go hand in hand except on rare occasions like while watching Titanic, or anytime you have to listen to a story from Grandpa. I have many resolutions for the New Years (2 of which involve some form of rehab) but one, in particular, I will share with you.

I have re-committed to blogging on a regular basis. I've become so slack in updating this and in doing so, have performed a terrible disservice.

How so Paul?

Well, I'm glad you asked, Mr. Question that I Posed to Myself in Text Form

Look what happens when I leave my blog unattended for more than 2 weeks. I get 7 comments in a row from the same guy. While I applaud his interest in my blog, his comments' lack of humor or any form of insightful drivel deserve nary a handclap at all. It's like this blog is my home and I let all of my kids (you readers out there) in charge of watching it while daddy goes to work. All of you behave and feed yourself and don't act up at all. But one of you, upset at the lack of attention being paid to you, pees on the carpet and hides the Playstation. Shame on you. One bad apple spoiled the bunch so that's the last time I leave you all at home by yourself. Until you can prove me otherwise.

The second reason I've re-committed myself is because I was approached by a random guy at a gig in San Antonio who told me that he kills his time at work reading my blog. Now who am I to deny that man the right to slack off at his job? All this time I've been gone he's had to turn to Solitaire or building paper clip fortresses. I can't let those endless games of trashcan football continue. I must blog again. If not for you kids out there.. but for all of the disgruntled, apathetic cubicle-ites out there

On this day 29 years ago, my mother was having contractions. My father was still flipping through the book of names trying to find something that would go with Varghese. My sister was bugging both of them, desperate to name the kid herself. And thank god, my parents were still in charge, because Ernie Varghese would just cement me into a life of eternal wedgies and Friday night discussions with my two friends about why Harry Potter could beat Gandalf in a head-to-head duel

Whenever you're bored, ask your father what he planned on naming you, had you been born the opposite gender. It'll make you want to castrate him with an ice cream scoop, so that he never has that power again.

My name would've been Bessie. Yes. As in "moo moo". I don't know if my dad had plans to move us all into an Amish community or have me sent into a slaughterhouse and processed into burger form. But Bessie Varghese? I can hear the potential dates line up now. Actually I wish I had that name now because then I could pawn off my awkwardness on the fact that I was destined to be this peculiar, with a name like that

So let's all raise our mouses to..
1) More blogs in 2006
2) Slacking off at work
3) And a swift kick to the pants to all fathers out there

Cheers.