The Daily Derenger

11/28/2003

I ran into a guy I went to high school with. He's dating a girl with a very prominent position up front in Michael Flatley's "Riverdance." Being that I'll be living in Los Angeles for the first part of 2004, I spoke to this guy and his girlfriend about Hollywood. We exchanged numbers and then I shook his hand and hugged the girl good-bye. As I leaned in to hug her, I stepped on her foot, a foot she relies on to earn a living. I could've shaken her hand and broken a finger or accidentally head butted and broken her nose. Nope, I stepped on her foot. She limped away, insisting that she was fine. I now have to practice Irish dancing for the next 36 straight hours to replace her. Ridiculous.

11/27/2003

Like millions of other Americans, I went out last, the night before Thanksgiving. I think people do that because they know they will be with family the next day and would rather be groggy and hung-over than have to talk with certain relatives. Okay, so that's why I did it.

I saw tons of people from my childhood, high school and everywhere after and in between. For some reason I think that kids who ran around in diapers when I was younger should still be doing that. Not the case; they all grow up, beer in hand, and begin life in the real world. But the ultimate sign of getting older is when you see these kids, or others you've known for years, and utter these six words, "Tell your parents I said hello."

It's all down hill after that.

11/25/2003

This comedy business can be a tough one. You can have a really great show and then think you'll be on Letterman. But then, that same night after the second show, you can have a horrible set and think you'll be on a milk carton.

11/24/2003

I had to pick up pizza for dinner last night. After mass. We figured there would be plenty of time to do so. But the parish we went to was broke. They had a guy talk about their debt, asking for more money from all of us. I couldn't help, though; I had a pizza to purchase. This talk took up a lot of time and my pizza was now getting cold. I opted to leave early and skip communion. After all, the pizza was round, made of bread and washed down with a nice glass of wine. I figured the Big Guy would understand.