Super(hu)man

Ryan and I have a friend named Nick, who you may know from his frequent comments on the blog. Nick is one of our biggest fans, rivaled only by Ponchos Sweater and Crissie Chavez.*

Anyway, Nick has been showing up in our material a lot - stuff you guys haven't seen yet, like our screenplay "Red Flag," and a song (which we will be performing in Westport, CT on July 10th. Come see us!) we wrote about the time he made us climb a fucking mountain. I thought I'd break you all in with this little bit about Nick.

Nick is one of the best-looking, nicest guys in the world. Blonde hair, strong build, former football player, the works. He's also a musician and he's majoring in composition at Princeton.

Now, recently Nick and I started woriking out together. I'm a lean guy, but I'm seriously lacking in muscle, strength, flexibility, and any kind of physical prowess. So my being Nick's workout partner is like being Superman's saving-the-world partner. You meet up at the end of the day, Superman asks you what you did - "Oh, I helped an old woman cross the street. I think I did it wrong, though. I can't really move my arms...you?"

"Well, I stopped 8 bank robberies, 14 carjackings, caught everyone on the most-wanted list, and foiled Lex Luthor's plot and put the Earth back in orbit."
"Wow, that sounds pretty amazing."
"Eh, I'm rusty. It wasn't my best Earth re-orbiting."
"...Fuck you, Superman."

Then Nick starts doing squats with the big bar. He says, "I'll start with like 150 or 5,000 or so. I probably won't be able to do it."
Of course he did do it. The asshole. But I'm supposed to spot him. And I'm like "You realize there's no way I'm helping you with that, correct? I just hope you know who you came to the gym with. If you slip, you're going to die."

It's like now Superman and I are on a mission together, and he's like "Okay, Joe, lift up this bus while I save the people under it."
"...Yeah I can't do that."
"Well I can't do both, Joe."
"Yeah well I can't do anything, Superman. I don't even know why I'm here. I clearly don't belong. I don't have any skills in your area, Superman. Remember when you were flying earlier? I don't know if you noticed, but I wasn't there with you. I took a bus here. Because I'm a fucking person, that's what I do with buses. I ride them. I can't lift them, you good-looking, able-bodied, kind asshole. If I'm going to hang out with a superhero it has to be one who I can actually keep up with. A superhero who's really just a whiny little bitch and doesn't have any actual powers...

"I'm gonna see what Spiderman's up to."



-Joe

Max at Stand Up NY 6/10

On Wednesday, I(Max Barth, King of the Elves*) performed at Stand Up NY. Check out the video.




*Not really, of course. I mean, I'm really Max Barth, but I would doubt the whole 'King of the Elves' thing if I were you.**

**Which I'm not. (See above)

Joe begins his career

I had my first comedy club show at Standup NY a couple of weeks ago. It was pretty cool, despite a steady stream of mishaps throughout the night.

I planned on doing ten minutes. I pulled my hair out cutting and adding and reworking material until I had a super solid ten-minute set. Then I get there and find out amateurs only get 8 minutes. It may not seem like a two-minute difference fucks absolutely everything up, but trust me, it does. So while I’m working my set down to 8 minutes, the guy who booked me comes over and tells me no one has signed in for me (we’re required to bring a certain number of people for a certain amount of time on stage). Now I’m calling everyone I know, trying to figure out if anyone’s coming. It ended up being my uncle (a founding member of the semi-official sponsor company of Milton & The Duke, MyTea), and his friend. I’m fucked. So they give me 4 minutes. The most fucked up amount of time I can think of. But it’s okay, I’ll take what I can get at this point in my career.

I think I was the second to last comic. People were leaving. They almost forgot to put me on. Plus I’m following Nick DiPaolo and Vic Henley. I’m nervous as hell. If I go over 4 minutes the booker and I both get raped. I’m 20 and I could get banned from Standup NY.

The MC announces me. I catch them at the last minute and stop them from announcing me as “Joe Pessina.” I take the stage…and the show goes really well. I completely lost all sense of time. I may have only done 3 minutes, maybe 2. But the crowd was great and I did really well. The difference between doing comedy at school and in the real world is vast. The response from and interaction with the crowd was incredible. It was an exhilarating experience.

However, before I went on stage, I introduced myself to Nick DiPaolo, and proceeded to say everything you don’t want to say when you meet a famous person.
“Great show, man. This is crazy because I see you on TV all the time and like, here you are…” I very narrowly avoided calling him “Mr. DiPaolo.” But he was cool and he got distracted by a basketball game pretty fast. I’m sure I haven’t tarnished my reputation forever.

Oh, and 5 days later I fucking KILLED at Caroline’s. To the point where I have to keep reminding myself that I'm a beginner I won't always do that well.