I did a standup competition at the Laughbowl between USC and UCLA. It’s hard to look back at something and remember every mistake or timing error or slip. At least when a surgeon does it someone dies but when I do it TWO people die (I kill two people every time I make a mistake).
It’s easy to be envious of Shelby Fero — the funny teenager who took Twitter by storm and hasn’t looked back — until you watch or read literally anything she does. Kid’s a Goddamn prodigy who’s going places.
The best thing I saw today was a colony of ants using a hose stretched across the lawn as a superhighway instead of bushwhacking through endless blades of grass. Way to go, ants! Smart!
Incidentally, I love that I can make the ants go whichever way I want. Go left, slaves! No, go right, you six-legged thralls! God, make up your hive-mind already.
“I say, Madam Jellywick! I do believe Comfest is rapidly approaching. Fetch me my finest fish monocle.”
Is this the t-shirt from Skidmore this year? God, I wish I were still in college — or had a respectable comedy career, but probably just were still in college.
On the bus, a drunk and smelly guy (probably homeless, let’s be real) kept harassing the driver. “I got laid off today, man!” he said. “Laid off today — ain’t got no money now.”
The bus stopped at Western, and the driver asked, “Is this your stop?” The drunk, smelly guy looked outside, at the cold, dreary street still illuminated by the McDonald’s sign two block away.
“Nah. Nah. Is the California bus still runnin’? I’ll take that,” he said, and sat back down.
That was my transfer. I took out my iPhone: the California bus arrived in 4 minutes. Just enough time to make it, if I ran.
At the stop, I leapt out the front door and sprinted across the street in my heavy winter coat, breathlessly racing against the flashing-red countdown. I slowed down to a brisk walk — 2 minutes! — and looked back to see if the drunk, smelly man was coming, too.
He hobbled off the bus and aimlessly wandered into the intersection. After a minute, the California bus arrived at the red light, half a block from the stop, but when the light turned green the bus stayed idle. The drunk, smelly man was yelling into it, walking in front of another car and flailing his arms, and after a few seconds the driver opened up and let him in. The bus pushed forward 200 feet and opened its door within inches of the designated stop, and I got on.
The drunk, smelly man was at it again, now telling other strangers how he got laid off today and how he’s lucky he had enough change for the bus. He jangled pennies in his hand. No one pays for the bus with change anymore, so I guess these days they must confiscate your CTA card along with your ID badge when they show you the office door.
When I got off the bus, I decided to stop into 7-11. Two drunk guys were buying a 12-pack of beer — or rather, two 6-packs of Busch Light, presumably because it was cheaper but probably (let’s be real) because a 12-pack’s cardboard box is harder to conceal.
As I paid for my own pack of PBR with my debit card, I noticed that one of them kept pointing out things in the store, curiously observing all the things he — as a fully functioning member of society — was interested in:
“Oh hey, look at this. It’s a charger for your iPhone. How does it work? Ah — just plug it into the S.U.B. drive. S.U.B., huh? That’s it! Easy.”
He put the plastic package back on the rack, and dug into his pocket for some pennies. He jangled them in his hand, took a couple more from the tray, and handed them to his buddy, who paid for the beer.
