The Daily Derenger

12/04/2002

Not only is gas $1.11 in these parts of Indiana but the hotel I'm in has all the amenities. Okay, so maybe they're not the things that would rock your world. But for a comic whose life is spent on the road, having a refridgerator, iron, and microwave makes a huge difference. And I also get free breakfast ... as long as I get downstairs between 6 and 9. That alarm is set for 8:15a.m. After that it's nap time.

Another thing that this hotel, the Baymont Inn of Lafayette, IN, has is something often times overlooked. Especially when you don't have it at your disposal. My rooms features the standard bathroom with a toilet and a bathtub. It also has a sink complete with facial soap and a coffe pot. But the areas are set apart from each other - the sink and mirror combo is outside of the tub's room. This is the way it should be in all hotel rooms.

For a guy who travels alone most of the time, having these features is no big deal. I guess the fact that I'm bald and need little to no time to "get ready" makes my bringing up of this issue seem odd. I just see where it can come in handy and is ultimately a no-brainer.

It's simple. When you do have someone else with you, especially a woman, having the sink outside of the shower area makes a huge difference. Things move more efficiently. With this set-up, you rarely here, "Are you almost done in there?" What else could you be doing behind the closed door - dropping a deuce or bathing - those are your only options.

I'm ecstatic to have a fridge and other such perks. The only thing is that I leave this welcomed haven for the unknown lodging of Decatur, IL in about 8 hours. I better get to bed and soak up all the greatness.

If you're reading this and have my cell number, gimme a wake-up call. Thanks!

12/03/2002

I went to the zoo over the weekend. It was on Friday night and the place was all decked out in Christmas lights. There were kids everywhere as I wondered how in the hell I got myself into such a mess. I was almost tempted to crawl in with a lone polar bear and take a nap. Or maybe he would've awoke and we could've watch the University of North Carolina game. They are 5-0 ya know. Go Heels!

Erin, her 8-year-old sister, her sister's friend, and Erin's cousin all piled in the Prizm for a night of fun at the Brookfield Zoo. I hadn't been there in many years and never at night. The animals were still the same and word had it that the aligator hadn't moved in 4 years. From the looks of it he wasn't going anywhere for the next 4 either.

Apparently Erin and company has made it a regular thing to get animal wax figures on such trips. For only $1, you could get an animal molded in a machine within seconds. It would even come out still rather warm.

The choices we saw were a gorilla, polar bear, dolphin, panther, giraffe, and crocodile. They all bought one of each and even went back for seconds on the panther. I shelled out a buck for the gorilla but never claimed ownership of him. Now if he signs on with the circus things will change.

Our friend the crocodile was made of green wax, the dolphin was blue, the polar bear was white, the gorilla and the panther were black and the giraffe was ... RED! How on earth can that be explained? Is this a way of the zoo marking the giraffe as an endangered species? Or is the red symbolic of the poachers on the African plains? Hell, did I miss an episode on The Discovery Channel where a pack of wild dogs take down a giraffe and its bloody carcass is left to become the mold model at zoos everywhere?

I demanded some answers. The only employee of the zoo I tracked down was serving hot pretzels and beer. She had it worse off than the red giraffe so I refrained from talking to her. Had there been a mold of her, I would've paid top dollar for it though.

I'm serious. How in the hell could they justify the giraffe being red? Clearly all the other animals were in their appropriate colors. Maybe red was the default color set if the yellow ran out. And I really hope the giraffe was supposed to be yellow. Or maybe brown or orange. But red. Even the Toy-R-Us reps have to be scratching their heads on this one.

I started a chant "giraffes aren't red, graiffes aren't red" but it fell on deaf ears as the Chistmas carollers drowned me out. My plan was to picket outside of the giraffe exhibit but we never made it there. Realizing that my attempts to bring justice to the red giraffe were futile, I surrendered my color-campaign. We went over to see the zebras and I almost ate my foot when I saw a kid carrying around a wax zebra that was lavender and polka-dotted. I had seen enough. I gathered the troops and we were outta there.

The moral of the story: don't visit the zoo when you've been drinking. But I still want an explanation on the red giraffe damnit.

12/02/2002

The number 28 means little to most people. When you celebrate it as the numbers of years you've lived on this planet, it means even less.

I now am 28-years-old. The number looks old when you glance at it. Maybe it's something about the roundness of the number eight that symbolizes how my body is evolving. When I was 18, there was a tall and slender number one next to the eight so it looked young and energetic. Now at 28, the pudgy eight is stuck beside a curvy two and life as I know it is over. The energetic days of my youth are things of the past. I must now direct my attention to a retirement plan and perhaps what home I'll move into when incontinence sets in.

At 28, I didn't think I'd have 3 jobs which brought in just enough money to buy a sack of grapes. The red, seedless ones I've grown quite fond of. As a child, I saw red grapes as disgusting and the greens ones as the equilvalent of a new Atari game - they both ruled. Now in my old age, I've embraced the red grape in all its splendor. Ms. Pac Man or Galaga still get my attention though.

A friend of a friend suggested that I consider getting a real job. Now it's not like I've never done that. In fact, many times, while drinking tap water and eating bread-and-pepper-packet-sandwiches, I've thought about having something steady.

The friend suggested a particular line of work.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a cop," he asked me. "It's a cool job and the benefits are really good," he added.

I thought about such a job maybe once. As fast as I thought of it I ruled it out. And to me, being a police officer isn't a job. It's a calling. Being a desk clerk or managing a Denny's is a job. Serving and protecting your community while always being on the look-out for crime isn't a job in my book. Besides, how can I go from drinking beer on the job to busting those who drink too much beer? With my luck, I'd arrest someone who had seen my show and my credibility would be shot. "Hey, didn't you used to be a comedian? You had that one joke about anal beads and you farted in pet stores, right?" So much for the right to remain silent.

I think I'll always be seeking out material no mater what job I do. If I was a cop, I couldn't stop chasing a criminal because I thought of another good line for my priest joke and had to write it down. There are tests to take before you really begin the process of becoming a cop. I may take those just to see what they're like. And report back with the material. Until then ...

These 2 cops walked into a bar ...