Saturday, October 22, 2005
11:15 AM

I'm going to only play 'Community of the Year' cities from now on. Some comedians aspire to play theaters or get on late-night talk shows. Not me.

PROFESSIONAL douchebag meets amateur porn star roped by Ron Jeremy

Coming to you live from the Panera Bakery in Cedar Falls, Iowa. It's a brisk Saturday morning, not a cloud in the sky. This place has been hoppin' for a small town. Maybe 40,000 people live here, 16,000 of which are students at University of Northern Iowa.

At last night's show I asked a guy in the front row what the university's nickname was. "UNI," he said. "What? UNI? I mean the mascot. What's your mascot's name?" "Oh. The Panthers," he then shared. "I'm guessing you're a third-year sophomore, right?" The crowd, numbering maybe 60, laughed heartily.

Yesterday's drive was 4 hours of my life I can't have back. A lot of nothingness between Joliet and Cedar Falls. The trees have changed color, which makes for a nice sight, but nothing mountainous or jawdroppingly breathtaking.

I'm staying in a motel. Not a HOtel, a MOtel. This is a further indication that the comedy thing needs to be re-evaluated. Six years in the biz and still playing venues that put me in motels? Something's gotta give.

When I checked in with the motel front desk gal, there was a spot on the check-in card reading 'reg or decaf'. "I assume this is for coffee," I said, "but why?" "There's a coffee pot in your room and we give you whichever kind you want when you check in," she shared, as if this had been commonplace as long as mustard and not ketchup on a Chicago hot dog. "Wow. Very interesting. I've never had to do this. Didn't know coffee was being rationed in these parts. Have the locals found yet another way to make crystal meth?" She wasn't amused, appearing oblivious to the fact that Iowa was the number one state for crystal meth abusers.

So much goes into comedy in these small towns: the proximity of the hotel, er, motel; an in-room fridge and microwave; continental breakfast; pool and/or hot tub; free drinks at the club; friendly club staff; an emcee who does actual comedy; crowds who actually come out to hear comedy and not visit with each other; merchandise sales; after show hot spots; Internet connections; the other comic(s) you're working with. And then there's actually being funny and growing as a comedian, trying to get beyond playing small towns that don't even pay your rent for a week's work.

My motel has a micro and fridge. I had a can of chili last night for dinner. It also has a WiFi connection, so the horrific green furniture and color scheme can be overlooked.

Last night's show had a friend from grade and high school in the crowd. Kevin Fittro and his wife Tonya were there along with another married couple, Charlie and Gretchen. Hadn't met a Grethen in a long time. She didn't really look like a Gretchen, though. The only Grethen I had known well was my Aunt Mary's dog. Charlie's Grethcen looked nothing like her canine namesake. I didn't feel the need to share any of this with her, especially with last night being our first time meeting. Plus she spent the money on a ticket and drinks to see my show.

I saw Kevin and his group as soon as I walked in. It was dark but Kevin's got a big head and a big smile. He waved to me from across the room (man does that sound gay) and I acknowledged with a salute-like wave. I then headed toward the DJ booth where the headliner, Bud Andersen, was visiting with the DJ, Gary. Bud's played this place many times before and seems to know everyone. Especially Rebecca.

"That girl at the front door's a regular," Bud pointed out. "She does amateur porn. She'll show you her tits at some point tonight." Such conversations make the whole 'I need to be clean and feel better about my career choice' seem pointless.

"Ron Jeremy came through town and she fucked him," Bud continued. "Her husband filmed it. They own a company for that kinda thing."

"Well I hope it's for that kinda thing," I joked. "I wouldn't expect to buy blenders or can openers from porno freaks."

Gary the DJ also emceed last night. He grabbed the mic once on stage, but it didn't work. He fixed it, did the regular welcomes and announcements and brought me up. Small crowds in small towns like Cedar Falls usually have no or very low expectations for the first comedian. They show up late, sometimes in the middle of the first comedian's set, and then save their laughs for the headliner. Or maybe I'm way off, but when you hear "You were really funny. The first guy always sucks. We thought you were the headliner until he was announced," what are you supposed to think?

The porn star and her hubby were right in the front row. They seemed to enjoy my show. She laughed often, especially at the perverted stuff. Imagine that. I did the joke about a 2-story porn shop in Minneapolis and she nodded her head as if she owned stock in it.

I could hear Kevin laughing at my stuff. I'm never sure if friends laugh at me for being funny or for just having the balls to talk like that in front of strangers. Or just because they are shocked that this is what I'm doing with my life.

After my set, Kevin and Charlie came over to talk with me. We went to the back of the room and had a drink. In the light I noticed that Kevin was drunk, eyes all glossy with a more pronounced squint to them than normal. He's not Asian, his eyes are just like that.

Kevin and I played sports together growing up and then through high school. He was a lot better at all of them. In grade school basketball he was our main player and his dad was the coach. I never played, just sat on the bench and made fun of our players and the other teams, the refs, anything to make the time pass. Sometimes I counted how many shots Kevin took.

"I had 18 points," Kevin would say to someone back then. "Great. But you took 35 shots. Eventually they have to go in at that rate," I thought to myself or said to another bench scrub. Kevin was a bigger kid, a left handed batter in baseball. He always made the all-star team in little league and then every year he made the high school squad. He played football all four years as well. In eighth grade, our school played its first ever year of fall league baseball. I hit the first home run in our school's history, the only athletic accomplishment I had over Kevin. But then I got cut my freshman and junior year for baseball, so who really gave a shit about that home run. 16 years later, obviously me.

"Don't you guys think you should go back to your wives?" I asked. "We can talk after the show and maybe head out for a drink?" As if either of them needed another. They pounded one drink after another like Gatorade and they just finished a marathon. With each one downed, a noticeable stumble increased. I guess when people work all week and have kids and a wife, the need to drink can be justified. Not acceptable, but justified. I sipped a beer but had no disire to match their frat-like consumption. Maybe with a wife comes a built-in designated driver, too.

As we stood and bullshitted some more, the guys having no desire to go back to their wives, I set up shop to sell my CD's and PROFESSIONAL douchebag shirts. Kevin and Charlie inquired about the products, eventually buying a shirt each and Kevin a CD. It's weird when my friends by my stuff. Do they do so because they actually want to or because they know I need the money? Sometimes I just give the stuff to friends, thanking them for their support. Other times I swallow my pride and genuinely accept their cash, avoiding the pity purchase conversation.

Some of the staff bought shirts, 3 to be exact. I didn't give them a discount. Some comics do, which is okay when you sell a lot and make better money from the shows themselves. Three people from the crowd bought some stuff, too. I have a lot of driving ahead of me so the gas had been taken care of.

I closed up shop and headed back to get my coat. Bud was talking with the DJ, the porn star and her hubby. Rebecca and hubby were kind of whispering to one another and fumbling around with DVD's. I assumed they were copies of her Ron Jeremy show, but didn't wanna probe. Nice choice of words. Her hubby said something like 'he already put his stuff away'. I figured he meant me since Bud sold no product. Just then Rebecca came over to me and handed me her DVD. "You like porn, right?" she asked, as if she hadn't seen my show. "This is of me and Ron Jeremy." "Awesome. Thank you. Can I give you one of my CD's?" I did. She also handed me a condom with her website on it, www.rebeccaxxx.com

Wednesday, October 19, 2005
8:34 AM

A Cliffs' Notes version of upcoming 4-week tour.

October 19 - 8 p.m. show in Iowa City, Iowa. 3.5 hour drive time from Chicago.

October 20 - No show. Stay in above hotel as long as possible. Either get a great rate on another night, drive back to Chicago, or befriend any Iowa City chap with a bed or sleepable floor space.

October 21 - 8 p.m. show in Cedar Falls, Iowa, an hour or so drive north.

October 22 - 8 p.m. show in Cedar Falls.

October 23 - No Show. Stay in hotel as long as possible. Either drive back home and possibly work Game 2 of the World Series or befriend a Cedar Falls resident for three days or drive to Sioux City, Iowa and get a hotel for three days.

October 24 - No show. Since I'm leaning toward Sioux City as my option, I'll probably be insane by noon, hopped up on coffee and clean out of things to do. With another full day left.

October 25 - No show. Depends if I survive the 24th, but I have to call my shrink at 1 p.m. We're doing a phone session. Not sure how I feel about this. There's something about the comfy couch and face-to-face conversation. Makes the $60/hour totally worth it. The same price to talk on the phone seems a bit much. But again, that's a week away. A lot of it - my sanity - rests on the hotel having a high speed Internet connection. Maybe dial-up will have to do. Probably see a movie and find a diner to people watch for most of the day.

October 26, a Wednesday. Drive about 4 hours northwest to Aberdeen, South Dakota. 8 p.m. show. Who knows what the hell to expect up there. I'll have a free hotel, though. Maybe even an orange and some flavored coffee creamers in the morning.

October 27. Drive two hours back down I-29 to Brookings, SD, a town I passed through the day before. 8 p.m. show. (I'm not really sure what time the shows are, but I'm not too worried about details at this point. Just work with me, will ya? Thanks.

October 28. Drive two more hours south on 29 back to Sioux City, Iowa. 8 p.m. show. The owner of the booking agency in charge of this tour will be there either Friday or Saturday night. It's my first time working for him so I better be good. And clean, not a lot of dirty stuff. Fine with me. But I'd rather be funny. Place is called Pepperoni's. We get a free pizza either night. Hopefully a big one so I can eat it for two days. Gas is too much to be eating three meals.
October 29. 8 p.m. show at Pepperoni's again. There may be two shows each night but I can't access that info right now. Hopefully the hotel has a microwave to reheat my pizza. Some like it cold, but not me. Yuck. Warm that shit up!
October 30, a Sunday. No show. Football all day. I'm told comedians can stay in the same hotel as the previous two nights for a discounted rate. How very thoughtful of them. No worries as long as I sell enough shirts and CD's to cover the cost. If not, it's a bad business venture on my part; I'll be paying to perform.

October 31. No show. The lonliest Halloween ever. This is the first extended tour where I don't have anyone lined-up to crash with. Nobody. Zilch. Usually friends, whether distant, long-time or a few hours old, make the off days a bit more exciting. Especially those spent in northwestern Iowa.

November 1. No show. All Saints Day, a catholic holy day of obligation. I hope to have found some nice cozy churches, maybe even chapels, at this point. Not only will I be in a good place and talking with my creator but it will be something to do. There are usually nice people in church and in these small towns, they welcome strangers and invite them to have coffee and bakery down the hall afterwards. Okay, so that happened once in Toledo, Ohio 2 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe Iowans go to church before the meth labs are broken out.

November 2, a Wednesday. Drive from Sioux City way up to Williston, North Dakota, near the Montana and Canada border. Probably a 10-hour drive, 2.5 tanks of gas. Awesome. There could be snow. Shit! I best pack accordingly. 8 pooh show. I also may be able to arrive in Williston a day or two early since they know nothing is around them and I'm in need of shelter. We'll see.
November 3-5, Thursday - Saturday. Drive about 2 hours east to Minot, North Dakota, which I'll call home for three days.

November 6, a Sunday. No show. Begin a helluva trek, maybe 25 hours, down to South Bend, Indiana by Tuesday the 8th. Football will be on the radio all day, which will make my Sunday drive much more bearable. I could stop in Minneapolis or maybe again in Iowa to sleep. We'll see. Chances are I'll pass right through Chicago and barely make it to South Bend in time. That will be a fun week, though. Bye for now. Hope you're not car-sick.