The Notebook

I'll admit it. I came close to tears. I felt them well up. It took every little droplet of testosterone I had in my body to hold it back. I squirmed. Thought of manly things like: beards, drinking beer through your beard, and talking about your beard with other guys with beards as you all stroke your beards and drink beer through your beards.
It didn't help. Sadness turned to frustration to anger as I pounded on the glass doors of the movie theater at midnight.

I left my JOKE notebook inside.

BEFORE WE GO ANY FURTHER ...
All comics write their jokes down. Anyone who says they don't must have never drank, never taken any illegal substances, or never aged.
So unless you're a 5 year-old comedian, you HAVE to write stuff down.

I went to go see that movie "Gomorrah". (It's not an Italian "City of God" as the trailer would have you believe, so I don't recommend it). I had just left an open mike and went next door to the movie theater since well (insert "when in Rome ..." double entendre, since I ended up watching a movie about gangs in Italy).

I never bring my notebook with me because I'm afraid to leave it behind.
So realizing 30 minutes later that I left my notebook on the seat next to me not only made me furious but made me realize that as of now, I'm a horrible dad. Because let's be real, I've been doing standup for almost 8 years. I have 8 years worth of notebooks. The one being discussed is all my thoughts since April 2008.

Now if I had an 8 year-old son, do you think he'd remember anything I said last year? Do you think he'd remember how my Irish car bomb joke ends? Would he know all the punchlines to my George Washington Carver bit?

The answer is No.
Which proves my point.
My notebook is way more valuable to me than any infantile offspring I might have.
So for that I apologize red joke notebook. I did a horrible thing. I took you for granted. You: the only one out there who knows my thoughts, my frustrations, my McMuffin Belgrande idea. I realize that leaving you there all alone may lead to abandonment issues. It's not the first time I've shown this kind of neglect. I've been irresponsibly drunk. I've been scatter-brained.

And I understand.
I understand that you may leave me for good one day.
And three years down the road when I find you, nestled in the arms of a struggling comic, and I see him make his Comedy Central debut by opening with the line, "I met a Japanese hooker who came to the United States on a bukaki scholarship", I'll know where he got that from.

And I'll weep.
Not out of anger.
But out of my own frustration. For had I been there and never let you out of my sight, that open miker douche would've never gotten a Comedy Central applause break, 10 seconds in.

Please accept my apology.