The Time I Met Adam Carolla

A few years ago, about 3+ now, I met Adam Carolla at Laughs Comedy Spot in Kirkland, WA. As a comedian and near deviant in my early 20’s, the work of Adam and Dr. Drew on “LoveLine” was a life-saver. Not only that, Adam’s humor and sensibilities match, and often surpass, my own. When I heard he was coming to my home club I immediately did everything I could to help facilitate the evening. And naturally I didn’t want to act like a total dumbass because Adam’s like the older brother a lot of us wish we had or needed.

Fast-forward to a few things Adam has said about his life and that night in particular.

1) Adam’s wife once told him, paraphrasing, that he has a way of “Bringing out the idiot in people,” I heard this years after the night I’m writing about, but it rang true that night. As part of Adam’s weekend, he was going to jaunt across the parking lot from the club to a bar called the Liquid Lime, wherein he’d sign autographs, take photos, and then try to beat it back to the club a mere 70 yards away. Instead of walking out the front door, or walking all the way from the club to the Lime via the backdoor, I was asked to drive Adam and Mike August, his road manager, over in somebody else’s 1990 Camry. So I did.
Cut to IDIOT TIME.
I gotta get Adam back to the club so we all head out the car which is parked right in the front of the Lime. I’m 8 steps ahead of them so I can unlock the car, open doors, and get back around the comedy club and drop ’em off. First I need to unlock the…
I need to unlock the Camry… Stupid button… What the… Unlock the …
I pushed the button, held the button, etc for about 10 seconds which is an eternity in the world of Adam’s Efficiency Sphere. At which point I hear what equates to “Nevermind, dumbass, I’ll walk.” It was actually “Hey, I’ll just walk.” The Idiot had been brought out. And I don’t think Adam’s being an asshole at this point, it’s just embarrassing and he’s just a guy who would rather not deal with speedbumps, and it ain’t personal.

So I manually unlock the car, alarm goes off, we get in hastily and I hit the button to unlock it and stop the alarm.
The alarm stops, I start it up and we go.

As we enter the back of the club I hand the keys back to the owner of the Camry, a guy who’d been hired as “Security” for the night. Nice enough guy. I say “Your unlock ain’t workin’,” and he goes, “Oh yeah, I heard the alarm! HA HA HA I should’ve told you it was broken.” Yeah. You should’ve.

2) Adam has referred to this particular weekend as a gauntlet, which went from I think 4 shows to a whopping 9 shows over 3 nights. He’s just so damn popular people wanna get close to him, and Laughs was exactly the spot to get close. Adam’s a worker, a do-er, and this was a weekend that put everything else I’ve done to shame. 9 shows, 90min at a go, on-stage alone. Fuggin’ amazing. Since then he’s only done bigger venues and fewer shows for more money, deservedly-so. It’s a great model to follow; if you can get to the same audience with less repetition, you’re not working harder, you’re working smarter. And less. And that’s good. No need to burn out making people laugh. Truly a hard working entertainer and philosoteur.

They say “Never meet your heroes,” because the shine’ll come off the bust. Not true. Adam’s a dude doing what he does, and great at it. I haven’t hit the Bucket List item with Adam, which is getting invited to Jimmy Kimmel’s Football Sundays and catch a Mangria buzz. But until that happens, we’ll always have a fritzed car alarm story.

November 22, 2013 0

CrowdFund Your Motivation

I’m still not sure if I like crowdfunding, the ability to ask friends or strangers for, and sometimes receive, financial backing for your pet projects. It’s not exactly on-line panhandling, but it’s not really fundraising. It IS, I mean, yeah, you’re raising funds for whatever it is you haven’t saved for, but do you really appreciate it and let it be YOUR baby? In this case, we’re talking fundage, financially, money. Mmkay?

Admittedly, I did use “GoFundMe.com” earlier this year to help a single mother get her car repaired. She had no money, was living in a church, and needed a new transmission in order to get her car running to get around for job interviews. The need was there, the means were there, so I cobbled together a few things and posted it and promoted it. We made our goal in a few days, and I can only thank the kind people who gave anywhere from $10 to $50 to $300. It was an inspiring influx of empathy and care, and very much appreciated. There’s always more to the story, of course…

Of course, like anything that goes online, it had its share of trolls asking why a transmission cost of $600-something (labor included) was the target, why she didn’t just get a better car, etc. By ignoring some of them or calling them out for being dipshits we were able to just focus on the goal. Don’t feed the trolls.

I’m not going to say this isn’t some sort of meta-trolling about the intent of using crowdfunding to fill a project’s financial gap. I’m not tearing a rotator cuff to pat myself on the butt for a job well done, either. Just stating what is possible when you present a need to people who want to help. It was really great to see it come together. Hell, what would YOU do with your pet project if you had another $1,043 laying around? Would you use it properly? Could you/I be THAT accountable? That’s why I wonder how much a person can appreciate the gifts they promote themselves to receive. Some people are making movies. Some people are trying to pay off medical bills. Who’s to say who’s right? The people with the money, that’s who’s.

The “more to the story” is that I had two situations where fundraising for a cause took very different turns. In one, I produced a comedy show to raise money for a family friend whose mom had been left with a mountain of medical bills after her husband passed away. I don’t know how much was raised, all I know is the place as packed with concerned friends and a lot of love. We did very well, and my friend’s mom was incredibly appreciative.
The other turn was that a person who I did something financially-beneficial for via fundraising really didn’t take advantage of the upturn. There was an option there to move ahead with what they had been asking for – and given, but they either moved at a glacial pace as to appear immobile, or just bided their time. Then kept hinting how they needed more of this, or didn’t have any of that. In a side-project we also provided a lot of resources to help them get back on their feet, but nothing in the form of straight-up cash. And pretty soon it seemd as if they’re just hoping to get more of something without putting out anything. As much as I want to see everybody doing better for themselves, I want to see people DOING, unless some sort of crippling disease has taken their ability to leave the house and interact with people or bring me homemade cookies and/or dark beers from around the world.

The Need exists for a little something more; schools, food banks, neighbors, drag show open mic nights, etc. People have needs that aren’t met because of – pick a reason. And if you can help meet their needs, do it. The 1% that made 95% of the income won’t. Our taxes aren’t going to make up for it. Gotta act locally.

Reminds me of a story my maternal grandfather told me. There was a bear who grew up near a campsite. Every Monday he would go to the dumpsters and pick through food and he grew strong and clever, but a little fatter than the other bears in the rivers eating salmon. One Monday morning a park ranger saw the bear and thought he may be a hazard, so he tried to scare him off. The bear didn’t understand the tactics; this was garbage, nobody wanted it, why can’t he have it? But the ranger didn’t want the bear coming into the park at other times, and didn’t understand the bear’s intent was simply to eat from a reliable source at a non-threatening time. In the end, the bear starved to death after getting his nose caught in a plastic holder from a 6-er of Miller tallboys.
The Lesson: You can always get garbage, the good stuff takes some effort, and park rangers are usually assholes.

October 30, 2013 0

Comment Please

It’s a basic human right that if you have the ability to express yourself, you should be able to express yourself without fear of tyrannical, violent downforce, be it Governmental, Societal, or Cee-Lo. For real, tho. However, a growing number of people in society have confused “Right To Speak” with “Cannot Be Judged,” and “Should Not Be Reprimanded Whatsoever.” These people are either immature, overly-self-empowered, or a high-functioning mentally handicapped (MH) person. Many of them are probably still in High School, or (insert enemy political party here).

If you want to see what our society really feels, just go to any news story online that allows comments, make sure the story is about politics or has a person of an ethnicity that isn’t WASPy, and have a field day. Stopping short of using the “N-word” doesn’t show a person is intelligent and well-mannered; it only shows they WANNA USE IT, but aren’t sure if anybody’s got their back. In the previous paragraph I held back from saying “Retard” because that does offend some people, although I think you can call other people “retarded” if you have a diagnosed (and somewhat obvious) form of what was once referred to as “retardation.” I would say it’s funnier for a MH to call somebody a “retard,” though not as call as when Daquan calls you “his N-word.” If he called you his “retard,” that’s a bit much, unless Daquan himself is MH’ed, then he’s probably racist.

So when those comments are posted, or the comments people post on that Instagram picture of your first attempt at rose water-infused, gluten-free competitive cheesecake, make you feel like, golly, you could just rip the fucker’s face off and powershit into their now-lipless mouth-hole, WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Call ’em out. Fight back a little and defend yourself. Don’t get defensive, just state your case. Let their names be known, if you can. Anonymity is the One Ring That Binds internet comment trolls.
Ignore it. Lots of trolls out there, who are just trying to start crap and truly have nothing better to do than try and start internet fights. They breathe in life from making a point of taking time to crap on whatever they can find to crap on. They have very little originality to offer. It happens, shrug it off.
Go all-out and get in the fray. Fire off every word you can think of for every negative comment and let people know you are NOT messing around on your comments section.
Pick Your Battles. Not everything is worth going to the mat for. Know what’s off-limits, and let people know, and if they don’t censor themselves, see #3. Remember the first person to use CAPS LOCK in their reply, loses.

Instead of shrugging off everything, mix it up. Keep people guessing. Ignoring stuff is the ultimate self-empowerment. Some folks, however, do it in real life and that’s inexcusable. I’ll address how to handle public judgment of others in a future post. Save yourself the hassle and just buy a boat horn right now, though.

Just remember… fighting on the internet is like being in the Special Olympics…
Find me on Twitter; @glottrules

http://www.geofflottrules.com

November 1, 2012 1

Nobody Cares, Burnout

Did a show last night for about 300 people in a large casino North of Seattle. Most everybody seemed to like me. Not everybody’s always gonna like me. Not on-stage, not on the roads, not in the aisle of a grocery store when I’m putting stuff in their unattended carts. I’m okay with that.

After my set last night, the headliner’s on-stage, and I am standing near the entrance and a guy walks out, passes me and the MC, and stops to tell the room manager “At least this guy’s (the headliner) funnier than the other two.” This is a free show, BTW. Zero fiscal commitment from the patrons. It’s all on the entertainers. Gas money. Time spent driving, etc. But apparently this guy wasn’t getting what he wanted until 5 minutes into the headliner’s act, and loved it so much, in fact, that he waited all the way through my 40min set to get up and hit the men’s room.

10 minutes later I am leaving, and the Unhappy Methadoner isn’t back yet. I bump into a group of 20-something gals who are dressed like it’s Vegas night-out, I appreciate the enthusiasm. They were in the show and thought I was “Hilarious” and “Awesome” and I think a “hella” was in there. They want a picture with me, I say “Sure” because it makes them look more attractive since I’m a mess. As we stand there waiting for a stranger to hit the button…. hit the button… just hit the red… it’s the button on the phone, here let me show you…

And here comes The Critic, strolling by our picture. All of the best critics of stand-up comedians with acts based on their microcosmic extrapolation from personal to societal ills can be spotted because they know SO MUCH about comedy and what FUNNY is, that they wear cargo shorts and socks with their tactical boots because fashion takes a backseat to breaking down joke and act structure. Guy knows his stuff. And as he walks by, we finish the picture, and the critic pauses… to say something in passing. Not even a Stop, Say It, Move On. He’s kind of walking by at the same time. And he says “You were okay, this guy’s funnier.“

My response? “Yeah? Fuck off.” That got his attention. He stopped and looked at me the way all shitdogs do, like his feelings were hurt for having had his opinion challenged. You’re free to express yourself. As am I. And that’s how I expressed MYself. He didn’t like what I had to say (contractually obligated) for 40minutes. I didn’t like what he HAD TO SAY (as if it mattered) in a split second.

The laughing reaction of a crowd of strangers tells me I did my job properly. Don’t like my act? Find something else to do IN A CASINO. If you’re at a show and hate me, you probably don’t “get me,” but that’s verrrry rare, and I barely ever intend to totally bore and offend an audience (unless I’m at the dayjob). But if you make a point to voice your negative opinion about my act, or any other comedian’s act after they had 8 applause breaks and 4 jokes with over 10seconds of laughter from 275+ people, the only punchline you’ll understand is…

Fuck off.

July 12, 2012 4

Asleep At The Real

Sleep is a fickle lover, idn’t it?

If I were to be embraced by sleep nightly, welcomed into her arms and pulled deep into her embrace, for her to put forth all the effort to make me feel safe and refreshed, eventually I would need less. And when she decides what I feel about her she makes up her mind without consulting me on my feelings.

She whispers into the ears of my wife “he’s with me…” and my wife may get jealous. Because her Sleep isn’t infusing her with rejuvenation. He eludes her. He brushes past her with a wink.

He teases her. He approaches her and tells her to relax, only to step away, returning well after a normal sleeping hour has passed. He exhausts her. While she waits, I slumber lightly.

So little sleep is causing so many other issues. Advice comes and goes. Insomnia, well, that’s a hard one to shake off.

And if nobody’s feeling rested, everything else blooooows ass.

June 14, 2012 0

Helicopter Parents & GroundPatrol Kids

There are some play areas in public places that are designed for kids around ages “Crawling well-to-4’ish.” They’re based pretty much on a height limit, usually noted by a body-part of a cartoon animal. “If you can suckle from this giraffe, your involvement is a gaffe!” Some-such… and the parents for the most part aren’t really governing the situation. There’s always a kid who’s too tall and too weird for the joint who’s probably just on his parent’s last nerve. That’s why there’s a Lego store.

I take our oldest guy (2.5 yrs) to a few of these places every 6-8 weeks, depending on the weather and time of day. He likes it enough to not want to leave after 30minutes, and it tires him out, builds coordination, gives him a healthy dose of interaction, etc. Also causes me minor panic attacks. Usually the joint’s overrun with kids, the way it oughtta be, and a packed airspace of “Helicopter Parents.” They act as labeled – hovering within feet of their kid’s activity, constantly voice-guiding their child like a sonar ping. “Aiden! Don’t hang on the lighthouse parapet. Aiden! Not YOU, sorry, AIDEN MAXIMUS… NO, NOT YOU, GAAAH! Maddie go get your br… sorry, MadeLINE, go get your brother.” Even better when one kid has 2 parents and a grandparent hovering around, 1 directing while 1 captures burgeoning narcissism and the other documents flowering misanthropy on smartphone cameras.

The worst of the Heli-parents are the Heli-Sippers. Fresh into the play area with knee-high kids running around, what better way to enjoy it than with a steaming-hot, freshly made latte in-hand? Oh, even better, stare at your phone amidst the cacophony of Figure-8 Racing that is a toddler’s play area!

Next-worse are the asshole parents of the asshole kids stuck along the perimeter, phone-thumbing their way through social media while IN A COMPLETELY CROWDED PUBLIC SPACE. Their kid is the one on top of the foam boat, purposely but passively giving kids the kick-back while screaming “I am the CHAM-PEE-ONNN!” Actually, Cade-aid-maximaden, you are 9 years old and need to get your ass off the boat before I engineer a slip-off. It’s always a boy, he’s usually got red hair or a big head, and his parents haven’t had him tested to see which chromosome caused the 11^th-14^th toes.

Nobody ever says anything. Ever. I am beginning to. I’ve told kids who push other kids “You’re not a very nice little boy, are you?” They don’t like that. Or “You shouldn’t push kids, or they will push you.” Huh, what? Responsibility? Accountability what? My son doesn’t touch other kids, but he is telling them now “It’s MY turn” and they move and he says “Thank you” and then won’t go down the F’ing slide and I look like my kid’s scared of everything.

I’m not perfect, soooo far from-far-from perfect. But I am trying to teach my oldest to stay out of other kid’s faces, no pushing, and to verbalize what he’s feeling. Ain’t easy. Eventually a kid from another country will not like his tone and knock him down. Then that kid’s dad will get thrown in a garbage can. StealthFighterDad among Helicopter Parents. I will drill you from high above in the play area. Then I will sanitize my hands with foamitizer and get a cupcake. Because America.

Be present. Say something. Parent, as a verb.

March 26, 2012 5

Crosswalk to Bear

Every morning’s commute comes to an end just after a brief encounter with any number of people madly crossing streets against the signals. Within a half-mile of the parking lot are a few encampments for transient folks, a well-attended medical clinic, and a ton of stoplights, train crossings, busways, and pond-sized potholes. Bad timing can add 15minutes to your last half mile if you hit all the lights, allowing for plenty of inter-windshield eye contact with passersby, many of whom may not actually see you there.

Once, months ago in a fine Seattle rain and 40 degrees, 2 young men crossed against the light while I sat in my car, waiting… waiting for them to slooooowly get to the other side. One of them turned from under his hoodie and stared at me as though I was the one who elevator-farted, and he would pocket that info to keep me honest. Instead, I rolled my window down as they got half-way across, stopped in the rain while I yelled, “Hey guys!? It’s raining like hell out there, but take your time, I’m pretty comfortable!” The tenacity of their responding “FUCK YOU FAGGOT” belied their otherwise calm demeanor. You know how bros joke around…

And thus…

CROSSWALK HAIKU

I see you seething

Walk slowly and glare at me

Contrasting climates

Against the Rules, Light

Perpendicular to Green

I shrug off your mean

You glower at me

Challenge my gas pedal, sir?

You clock in nowhere

Take your time, Spirit

Heated breath into the cold

Mad walk so slowly?

Empathy given

A life chosen and pushed through

Not all is my fault

Why glare at me, man?

Stopped, waiting, I shrug it off

Warm podcast cocoon

January 30, 2012 0

Category: Interactions