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Sorry, Folks, But I’m Up to My Armholes Over Here

Well, poopstain.

Folks, I’m about halfway into a really, really pointless opus of a piece for you, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get it out to you before the morn.

(Or the aft, or even the eve, come to think of it.)

Now, I never want to be accused of crying, ‘Work!‘, but essentially, that’s what I’m going to do. See, there’s a guy here in my office who’s leaving, and it’s falling upon me — that’s right, little old me — to take over his project, and juggle his tasks, and find a way to keep the balls in the air.

(As opposed to taking over the tasks, keeping his project in the air, and juggling his balls. That’s different. And ickier. Bleh.)

Anyway, most of the workday — and the rest of it, from the looks of things — has been spent spilling the contents of his head onto the table, and picking over what comes out. (Once we’ve washed off the blood and ear wax, of course. Oh, hush up. You’ve heard worse.) I’ve got a short reprieve right now, as he talks to his manager, but I’ll be back on the clock very soon, and unable to finish the little ditty I started.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a show tonight — eight-thirty at the Emerald Isle in Dorchester, if any of you are interested in coming out for some comedy — so I’ll likely be going home after work, grabbing a sandwich, and heading back out the door to the club, where I’ll be stuck doing comedy, watching comedy, and drinking beer until close to midnight. Oh, the horror.

So, okay, don’t exactly cry for me, Argentina. Still, I thought you should know that I haven’t forgotten about you — I’m just a tad swamped today, with all this brain-dumping and standup-planning stuff.

(And, probably unfortunately for my career, not in that order. Is it wrong that I’m practicing tonight’s jokes in my head while this guy’s explaining the database to me? More importantly, is it downright illegal? ‘Cause I can stand being ‘wrong’, but I’m really trying to avoid being ‘arrested’. You know, New Years resolutions and all.)

In any case, I’ll try, try, try to do better tomorrow. Though, truth be told (for once around here), things aren’t looking so hot for Thursday, either. The guy’s still leaving, he’s just gonna have more info to dump on me, and — jazz hands, everybody! — I’ve got another show to do tomorrow night! Yeah, really. I emailed a guy last night to ask for stage time, and he gave me the big ‘Come on down!‘ for tomorrow night.

(And so I will, to ‘The Times’, at 112 Broad Street in Boston, to find out what yet another seedy New England comedy bar looks like. Nine o’clock tomorrow; come see!)

I’ve never been to the place, but it’s just a couple of blocks from where my wife works. She’s threatening to stay at the office until the show, and bring people from work to watch me. I’ve got to say, I have mixed feelings about this little plan. Sure, on the good side, she’ll be there, and she’ll giggle, and more people in the audience is always better. On the other hand, though, she works in a law firm, and I’m just not sure how much the stuffy attorneys are going to appreciate my bits about ‘lesbian porn’ and ‘professional sperm donors’. Yeeks!

(And if you don’t believe that’s the kind of hash I’m slinging for the next two nights, just download the video clips of the shows when I put ’em up. Folks, I might delay a bit in getting a post to you, and I might stretch the truth somewhat from time to time… but I would never say I was gonna mention ‘lesbian porn’, and then not deliver.

There are some things that are just not done. I do have some code of ethics, you know.)